The River Poros
by quillon
Summary: COMPLETE! Faramir has something to prove to himself, and he must leave Eowyn behind in Emyn Arnen....Please R&R!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I simply derive pleasure from speaking with them. I promise that I will escort them safely home when I am done listening to their story and tuck them into bed.  
  
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I remember those days well, at least the beginning of them.  
  
I awakened early the day I was to depart and could not return to my slumber. I could not deny the sense of dread which had pervaded my dreams that night, nightmares that I had not experienced in the months since I had married Éowyn. Oft before that I would wake bathed in a cold sweat, the ghosts of flames and my dead father haunting me. But since she had become my lady wife, I had dreamed only of happier things, of our future together–until King Elessar had requested that I journey to the ranger outpost upon the Poros with my guard so I could see for myself the very edge of the lands of which I was now Prince and determine the likelihood that South Gondor could be resettled safely. There was not much to indicate that I should expect any trouble during this journey as I would only be traveling to the southernmost part of South Ithilien, not battling Uruks or Nazgúl. But my nightmares had returned, the one in which Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, had my unconscious form brought into the House of the Stewards and attempted to burn me and himself alive. The worst part of it was that it was not an invention of my mind, but truth that luckily had not come to full fruition, though Father had managed to end his own life. I was fortunate to have good friends in Beregond, Mithandir and Pippin, who had pulled me off the pyre at the last possible moment. But the horrifying memories remained and resurfaced when I was feeling particularly overwrought. Not wishing to disturb my wife in her contented oblivion, I slipped quietly from our bed and stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air, hoping the cool night could coax me back to a restful slumber.  
  
The clear night was peaceful in Emyn Arnen as I thought back upon all that had happened in the two short years since the end of the War of the Ring.  
  
Upon awakening in the Houses of Healing after being grievously wounded during the retreat from Osgiliath, I was disheartened to learn that my father was also dead. I was alone in the world, save my Uncle Imrahil and his children in Dol Amroth. I fell into a depression that I feared would never abate.  
  
That is, until I met Éowyn. She, too, had been injured and sent to the Houses. She, too, had lost most of her family, save her brother, Éomer, who was now King of Rohan. And she, too, was nearly lost in the depths of despair, her heart crushed beneath the weight of her losses.  
  
Word of her bravery during the Battle of the Pelennor had filtered to me there as I recovered from my injuries. Yet when I first gazed upon her, I was amazed that someone so fair, so delicate could have almost singlehandedly defeated the Witch-King, the same foul creature that had nearly slain me only a few days before. Her beauty was ecstasy to gaze upon, though it was plain that she, too, was unhappy. She was pale and quiet, filled with a sadness that seemed would consume her. But I loved her immediately and offered her a token of my reverence of her, a midnight blue cloak embroidered with silver stars that had belonged to my mother. It had been in my possession and unused for much too long. I thought Éowyn deserved to have beautiful things around her.  
  
She offered me something that I had never had, even from Boromir: complete and total acceptance. She never judged or questioned, only listened silently as I spoke and offered her support when I required it. I tried to do the same for her in turn, and soon there was a bloom upon her cheeks and a sparkle in her eye that had not been there when first I had greeted her. I rejoiced that she was so improving, eventually making my intentions toward her plain. But she rejected me, which was a near crushing blow. She still had feelings for Aragorn, I found, though he had never reciprocated them. I had to content myself to remain her friend and confidant until I could convince her my feelings toward her were genuine and she was willing to return them. But then after the forces of Mordor were finally overthrown, it was necessary for her to return to Rohan with the body of King Théoden, her uncle, so she could be with her own people in their time of mourning.  
  
Unable to do anything else, I threw myself wholeheartedly into my new role as Steward of Gondor and hoped she would return someday, for I knew there would be no other woman for me so long as I should live, even if I would die a lonely bachelor because of it. In time I was presented with an opportunity to visit Edoras in an official capacity, when Éowyn's brother Éomer was to be officially crowned the new King of Rohan. I looked forward with trepidation to the journey, hoping beyond hope that a chance to speak privately with the sister of the new king would arise, for I had much to say, though I was extremely anxious that she would reject me once more.  
  
I need not have worried. We had difficulty finding time in which we could converse at length, so busy was the short week that I would be in Edoras. But when I finally had her alone, I found her as warm and lovely as ever she had been toward me despite our somewhat lengthy separation. She seemed genuinely pleased to see me, so I plunged forward and offered her again my troth, this time with a token of my love, a necklace fashioned of delicate argent, which had also belonged to my mother. Éowyn blushed and smiled and allowed me to fasten the dainty chain about her graceful neck, my fingers brushing her delicate flesh, stealing my breath away from me. And then she turned and accepted my offer with a dazzling smile, dizzying in its intensity, while apologizing profoundly for declining my first offer of marriage. It seemed she had regretted it almost immediately after rejecting me, but she knew not how to broach the subject before leaving for home. She, like me, had worried that we would have no time to spend together during the eventful week for which I would visit. How hard it was to leave her after that short week! But my mind was much at ease knowing that finally she had accepted me and that she loved me as much as I did her.  
  
It seemed forever until our wedding day, a year is a long time to be apart, but finally it arrived, and I only saw her again when the nuptials began. I nearly fainted at her beauty and her nearness as she pledged to me that she would devote her life to me, forsaking her pursuit of glory among the Rohirrim, preferring to content herself with my love while turning her life into a pursuit of helping things to grow and thrive.  
  
My voice was surprisingly strong, if not somewhat hoarse, as I vowed that I would remain ever faithful to her for I treasured above all else and added that should the need ever arise that I would most willingly die for her and our children if they should ever require defense.  
  
As I reminisced, I realized that I was no longer alone. I turned and glanced back into our bedchamber and beheld the face of my beloved in the glow from the fireplace, awake now, her grey eyes watching me and waiting patiently. With a bewitching smile, she opened her arms to me, and I went to her.  
  
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My husband is a remarkable man. He fought against the dark foes from Mordor for more than twenty years and elevated himself through his deeds to one of the Gondorian army's most capable leaders, fiercely defending Gondor without benefit of praise from the man whom he most sought love and acceptance, finding only disdain and reproach. A lesser man might have been crushed beneath the weight of his father's lack of confidence in him, let alone the physical abuse he had received at the previous Steward's hand, but Faramir was made of better stuff. And it helped that his brother doted on him, encouraging him in everything he chose to accomplish, whether Boromir had understood Faramir's motives or not.  
  
Faramir's prowess as a Ranger of Ithilien was unquestioned, but he had never loved the song of battle the way that Boromir had. It was just something he was forced to do, a task set before him by Denethor. He fights well, for he does everything well. That is his nature. But he takes no joy in it. Now that Denethor is gone, the title of Steward of Gondor has passed to Faramir, leaving him adrift in a sea of duty that he never thought to have thrust upon him so soon. But as I said, Faramir does everything well, unwilling to fail others, though he constantly feels he is failing himself.  
  
Not long before the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, he fell, downed by an arrow as he, and what remained of his company, fled Osgiliath before the Witch-King and his army, all at the behest of Denethor, who was blinded by the grief of Boromir's untimely death. Never had Faramir desired anything more than simple love from his father, and he nearly died trying to attain it. But then, upon word that his youngest son had also fallen, Denethor slipped completely into madness and set about burning himself and Faramir upon a funeral pyre in the House of the Stewards in the Silent Street.  
  
But Faramir was not yet dead. If not for the intervention of Peregrin Took, cousin of my dear friend Merry, Denethor would have ended my husband's life before I would ever have had the good fortune of meeting him. Would that I could have even five minutes alone with that evil man!  
  
The very quality that makes Faramir so remarkable after enduring a lifetime of cruelty and contempt, is that he is the most gentle and kind soul that I have ever encountered. He never fails to put all at ease in his company with a kind word or thoughtful gesture, even when he himself seems unsettled. That was my first impression of him in the gardens which surround the Houses of Healing, where I first met him while we were both recovering from our battle injuries. When he turned to address me, I saw his eyes - fathomless grey pools of despair and pain and loss. They mirrored my own, I am certain. I was nearly speechless just from looking upon him. And yet, as I clumsily made my plea to be allowed to depart the Houses so I might follow my brother and Aragorn into battle, he bade me to walk with him. And his manner and words beguiled me. I felt as if I had known him my whole life. I entrusted secrets to his ears that I had never shared with another.  
  
And yet I was blind to his true feelings even after I realized that hope now also burned within those eyes. How foolish I was! I nearly allowed this man to fall away from me in utter, blind stupidity. Eru's tears! He had given me a cape that had belonged to his dead mother, and he had known me but a few days!  
  
But as thickheaded as I was then, I finally came to my senses after we spent some time apart, and I realized that Faramir was more dear to me than anyone else I know, for he was a part of me I had not known existed but now could not do without, and I have no desire to try.  
  
We now had been married for about a year, and I found my life with him in Emyn Arnen to be very much to my liking. When first we were married, we lived full-time in the Steward's residence in Minas Tirith, and though I found living there stifling compared to living in Edoras, I did not despair because I was now his wife. I had vowed to devote my life to him and to life and living things, and he in turn had promised to remain faithful to our love and to die defending our family if needs be. He spoke the words with such grave sincerity that I had no doubt that he meant them with all of his heart. I had just never expected him to be forced to try to prove his latter vow to me.  
  
Faramir had revealed to me his impending journey to the ranger outpost near the River Poros nearly two weeks before he was to depart. It was only a short trip so he could see South Gondor, as the King had expressed interest in repopulating the area now that the War of the Ring was done and the Haradrim's forces were weak at best. I was nervous as this would be the first time that we had been separated since we had moved to Emyn Arnen, but he reassured me that the trip would be most uneventful and that he would return as quickly as he could.  
He realized that I would be lonely without him, and so he included me while making his plans, explaining where he was going and where he would be staying while he was there. I expressed a desire to accompany him, but he assured me that I would be most bored if I went and went on to add that there was little accommodation for married couples upon the River Poros. So I began packing for him, trying to make certain he would have some of the comforts of home at his disposal while in South Ithilien.  
  
I was surprised when, that night, Faramir had a terrible nightmare such as he had not experienced to my knowledge since his stay in the Houses of Healing. And then he had another the next night and the next. Soon it was all I could do to even coax him into bed. Inevitably the visions would come, and then he would not sleep for the remainder of the night, sometimes just lying quietly beside me, sometimes getting up to read or work or just going out to take a breath of air.  
  
I worried for him. He was fading from exhaustion and the effort it took to stay awake all the time. When I finally tried to convince him that perhaps it would be best for him to postpone his visit to South Gondor until he was feeling better, he became angry, growing very pale and quiet before finally explaining in plain language that he would not allow himself to become crippled by his nightmares, and he wished not to speak on it further. I agreed that we should not since it obviously pained him so and went to bed without him once again.  
  
Finally, on the night before he would depart, he came to bed with me and succumbed to sleep nearly instantly for which I was glad. I slept extremely well for having my husband lying next to me again, his mere presence a comfort to me. Some time soon before dawn, though, I awakened with a chill and found him missing again from the bed. After stretching and shifting more toward the direction of the balcony, I spied him outside, seemingly watching the sky as he is often wont to do, his poet's heart sometimes overcome by the beauty of the stars alone. As he seemed content, I said nothing, but only watched his silhouette in the beginnings of the dawn. Eventually he must have felt my eyes upon his back, for he turned and looked at me. His expression was one of such tenderness that I could not help but smile and offer my embrace to him. He came to me without a word, for no words were necessary.  
  
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My wife was impatiently shaking me awake. "Faramir!" she groaned. "Wake up! You are late, my husband."  
  
I moaned with equal vehemence and forced myself to rise, though a little shakily, as I was still tired, having not slept well of late. I pulled on my trousers and boots as Éowyn rushed about gathering together the things I would require for my journey. As I finished lacing my gambeson, I pulled on my greatcoat, followed by my leather cuirass before topping it all with my cloak, Éowyn pressed a piece of day-old bread and an apple into my hands before she secured my cloak about my neck, using the antique cloak pin that she had given me as a betrothal gift.  
  
"I am sorry there is not more to break your fast, my lord husband," she said, as she helped me on with my baldric, straightening my clothing after she attached the quiver to my back, while I greatly enjoyed her closeness. Many times had I dressed myself over the years in the garb of the Rangers of Ithilien, but never had I had such an interesting time doing it.  
  
"I do not mind, Éowyn," I murmured, consumed by her intoxicating perfume, lilacs and roses. She oft did this to me when I was late, and indeed, oft I was late because she did this to me. I was near to bursting with desire for her as she dressed me in my sword belt. "My lady," I began, my voice slightly quavering with the emotion I felt.  
"Lord Faramir, you are late!" she repeated, more insistently. She offered me my pack and my bow, and I, with my hands still filled with food, fumbled a bit as I threw the apple inside the bag before I finally slung it over my left shoulder and stood before her, as ready to leave as I ever would be. "Go, husband!" she scolded, shoving me out of the bed chamber and down to the entrance hall of our house. "I will meet you in the stables before you depart."  
  
"Éowyn, I love you." I adore love poetry and have memorized and recited it my entire life, much to the consternation of my father, but those words were all I could manage as I pulled her into my embrace and kissed her passionately upon the lips, never happier than when she was so close to me. Reluctantly, I released her and fled the house, hoping my rangers would not guess what my wife and I had been about all morning.  
  
When I arrived at the paddock, I was greeted by my men, quietly nodding with knowing smiles, but none said anything specific, and so I only blushed a little.  
  
"Lord Steward!" shouted Beregond, my oldest and dearest friend, a tall, muscular, balding man, who was a member of my personal guard. "You are late!" he roared, laughing. The other three men joined in with gusto.  
  
"Yes, Beregond, I am well aware of that fact," I replied with a wry grin.  
  
"Captain, we saddled your horse for you," said Anborn, a shorter blond man, who had been with me when I had first met Frodo and Sam on their blessedly successful journey into Mordor.  
  
"Thank you," I murmured, going to Simbelmynë and beginning to load my paltry belongings onto his back. I munched absentmindedly on the bread I held as my company looked on, chatting amiably amongst themselves, yet obviously anxious to quit this small area of civilization and get back to the wilds outside of its walls. But I knew my Éowyn would require more than a few moments to ready herself yet, and so I dawdled, knowing that she would not disappoint.  
  
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I have always enjoyed watching Faramir when he is unaware that he is being watched. It is reassuring to see him work with his hands, not self- conscious, simply working as he would if he were truly alone. And I have always thought that he was the most handsome man I have ever beheld, most especially when he is aware that he is being watched by me, which was the case that morning. His dark, unruly, shoulder-length hair was catching the morning sun as it blew gently in the breeze, while he was double-checking that he had secured all to his mount securely and properly. As I approached him, his men quieted, and then he looked up at me, a spark lighting his grey eyes, a soft smile spreading across his face, the smile he gives only to me.  
  
"Éowyn," he nodded, using the same tone of voice he had been using with me much earlier that morning. I shivered from the sheer desire he conveyed with that single word, my name turned into a verbal caress that nearly always makes my heart skip a beat.  
  
"My husband," I smiled. "Have you nearly finished with your preparations?" As I reached him, he extended his arm toward me, slipping a gloved hand behind my head and kissing me soundly on the lips.  
  
"Yes, my love. All is ready now. All is done but the goodbyes," he replied.  
  
I hugged my husband tightly before pulling back a bit and looking again upon his handsome face. His eyes were filled with love, but he seemed anxious as well. I hoped he would remain well and fit and be able to sleep dreamlessly while he was gone. "Would that I could go with you," I told him again wistfully, "but I promise I will study hard to learn how to cook while you are away." Then, mindful of the other men's eyes upon us, I leaned close to his ear before whispering, "And as I am well-versed in the healing arts, perhaps I will practice my bedside demeanor for you when you return." I did not need to see his face to know that his eyes had closed, and the blood had drained away as I heard a shocked gasp escape his lips, and I chuckled wickedly.  
  
"My lady!" he scolded, also whispering.  
  
But when I pulled back to look upon him again, he was smiling broadly. "Just an added incentive for your prompt return, Faramir."  
  
"Though I do greatly appreciate the offer, my lady, and intend to accept it, I do not require more incentive than just to see your lovely face again."  
  
"I shall miss you," I said rather abruptly, and he sobered somewhat.  
  
"I shall miss you as well, my love," he murmured. "But I will return as soon as I might, and though the time will not pass quickly, it will pass."  
  
I nodded, knowing it was truth, yet sad all the same. But then he pulled me closer and kissed me again, leaving me breathless, my knees weak, before setting me back gently and, calling to his men, they all mounted their horses as one. He looked down at me with his special smile, his horse dancing beneath him, and said playfully, "Just you wait until I return, my love!"  
  
I blushed, my imagination filled with vivid images before he called again to his men and they rode away in a cloud of dust. Ah, how I love Faramir! I watched their retreating backs until I could see them no more and then sighed sadly, returning to our house to prepare myself for the long days ahead.  
  
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My men grew hush, and I looked up to find that a vision in pale blue approached, her golden hair yet loose about her face. She has never failed to leave me breathless when I gaze upon her. I smiled then, and she approached me, and when she neared I was enveloped in the scent of lilacs and roses. But, though her grey eyes were filled with love, there was something else I spied there. Worry. I realized, as usual, that her eyes mirrored my own.  
  
I was so anxious about going to the outpost. This would be the first time that I had acted in the capacity of aught but the Steward of Gondor or the Prince of Ithilien since the retreat across the Pelennor. Perhaps if I had listened to Mithandir that day, my father might yet be alive, as well as the men that I had lost, but I was deafened by my father's harsh words to me as he sent me from his sight, and saddened by his utter lack of affection toward me. Above all else, I was terrified, knowing we were riding to our certain doom, but my father did not feel any concern for my well-being. After all, he had conveyed, rather eloquently, I thought, that he wished me dead instead of Boromir. Though nothing I could do would bring back his rightful heir, I did not want to disappoint him on the other point.  
  
It was important to me to prove to myself that I did have some worth after all. I needed to face my fear and return to the field, if only to demonstrate to myself that I remained capable as a Ranger of Ithilien and strong as a man. The recurrence of my nightmares only served to evidence how important this journey was to me.  
  
However, I had been most worried about Éowyn. I had been behaving abominably in the weeks before this day, mostly due to lack of proper rest, though that is the reason but no excuse for my actions. I was most distraught as I thought back to the evening when she had suggested that I remain in Emyn Arnen until the nightmares passed, and I reacted with anger instead of calmly considering her proposal. But, luckily, there did not seem to be any permanent damage between us, as I realized that she spoke only with love, and she knew that I was only speaking out of exhaustion.  
  
This morning Éowyn teased me mercilessly, causing me all sorts of discomfort, which she thoroughly enjoyed watching. I welcomed the distraction, but then she grew more wistful, telling me she would miss me while I was gone. As I returned the sentiment, a new, indefinable, but not unwelcome sensation came to me as I realized that someone would worry about me in my absence, someone whom I held more dear than anyone else in the world. She nodded sadly as I explained that the time would eventually pass, and we would be happily reunited soon.  
  
I wished to drink from her lips again, as her kisses are like the sweetest wine to me, so I pulled her close, enveloping her within my cape and kissed her, all distractions put from my mind as I held her close, the rest of the world fading away from us. I sighed when I released her, before calling to my men and mounting my horse. I could not help but smile mischievously down upon her and threaten playfully, "Just you wait until I return my love!" She blushes the most becoming shade of crimson sometimes.  
  
"To the River Poros!" I shouted, before leading my men from the stable area and onto the narrow road that leads to the main road to South Gondor, my mind now fully upon the task at hand. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you Elrenia Took of Rohan for your kind review!!  
  
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The ride to the outpost was mostly uneventful. Spring was finally here after the long cold winter. Some of the trees were already blooming, their perfume scenting the breeze, and long-dormant plants were beginning to show green through the leaf litter upon the forest floor. My men and I reminisced along the way about some of our prior adventures, though we were careful to avoid the subject of Osgiliath, none of us ready to relive that day quite yet. Though the five of us were yet safe, having seen no sign of danger, I still felt uneasy, and many old, painful memories came unbidden to me. I found that the scar on my shoulder where I had been wounded during the retreat was now throbbing dully, though it had completely healed well over a year ago. I realized that I had been rubbing at it absently as we wound our way southward along the Harad Road. The ride would require three days of brisk riding before we would arrive at the outpost, so we camped along the road the first night, pleased by the clear weather.  
  
As we companionably sat around the fire that first night, the rangers inquired after my wife, having only briefly met her on our wedding day. I assured them that she was well, though she had expressed that she would be lonely while I was away from home.  
  
"She is a lovely woman," said Damrod with a smile. "Would that I had a pretty, young wife waiting for me at home, Captain."  
  
There was a chorus of agreement from the other men, and then they quieted, obviously waiting for me to comment upon the joys of marriage. It was not difficult.  
  
"She is wonderful," I began wistfully, then I smiled. "I highly recommend marriage, men. I have encountered nothing in life more cheering than spending time with Éowyn, doing even the most mundane tasks. I love her with all of my heart." I thought for a moment as they sat in rapt attention. "I feel that she is my reward for the long years of strife that I have endured."  
  
"And none deserves to be happy more than you, my lord," said Beregond.  
  
There was yet another chorus of agreement, and I looked to the ground, embarrassed by their enthusiasm, yet glad of it anyway. They toasted Éowyn and me as they again passed around the wineskin, and it was quite late when we all finally laid down to sleep, leaving Beregond on the first watch of the night.  
  
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Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I suffered my nightmare yet again and woke to the sound of my own screams. When I came to myself, I was sitting up, surrounded by my men who had crowded around me in concern.  
  
"Another dream, Captain?" asked Mablung, and I nodded, running my shaking hands through my hair.  
  
"Yes, I have had them quite frequently again of late," I sighed. Someone handed me a waterskin which I accepted gratefully, taking a deep swallow of the cool liquid before passing it back.  
  
"What was it this time, if you do not mind my asking?"  
  
I sighed. "It is an old dream, Mablung, though one that I did not have before the retreat." To a man, they nodded in understanding, though I was certain none of them really could understand this particular nightmare. I reassured them that I was fine and to please return to their blankets. They did, though somewhat reluctantly, I thought. I laid down as well, but I found, as usual, that I could not fall back into slumber. As I was lying there, tossing upon my blankets, I overheard Anborn and Damrod quietly speaking.  
  
"Captain's dreams have only ever meant one thing, Dam."  
  
"Aye, danger, An. I will stand watch with you for this turn." I grimaced to hear them so speak, though it was true. Ever have I experienced portentous dreams, and rarely have they ever foretold aught of good. With a soft groan, I sat up again and perused the contents of my pack until I found quill, ink and parchment, and by firelight, I wrote a short missive to Éowyn:  
  
My Dearest Éowyn,  
  
I have not yet been gone even twenty-four hours from your  
presence, and I already miss you so much that I am more than a little  
tempted to turn around and rush home to your waiting arms. I hope you  
do not mind that I am writing you so soon after my departure, but I  
find that I cannot sleep, and so I needed an agreeable way to pass the  
time.  
  
There is no news as of yet. My men and I have spent the day  
getting reacquainted. I had not realized how much that I had missed  
them all until we were back around the fire, sharing stories. They  
asked after you and complimented you as well, expressing their envy of  
us in no uncertain terms.  
  
Please take good care of yourself while I am away. I promise to  
you that I shall do the same until I am returned safe to your arms, my  
love. And remember, I expect that demonstration of your bedside  
demeanor as soon as I return! Please, try not worry about me, as I am  
with the best men in all of Gondor's army.  
  
I love you with everything that I am.  
  
Faramir  
  
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The next day was much the same as the day before, though I noticed that the men were quieter, they kept their weapons a little closer, their attention more focused upon the wood around them. I knew that it was all due to the dream that I had the night before. Always when we had been together, they had looked upon my nightmares as warnings sent by the Valar to protect us all. Personally, I was certain that the dreams could not be divinely inspired, as they were usually so violent and frightening, but the rangers seemed to feel that they were, since we had all been saved on more than one occasion by one of them.  
  
And so everyone was more tense that day and the next day, and we rode just a bit faster in hopes of reaching the River Poros that much sooner, gauging that any trouble we might have, would be found upon the road.  
  
We began to descend into the vale of the Poros about the time we stopped for lunch, and we arrived at the outpost on the north side of the river at mid-afternoon of the third day. It consisted of four wooden buildings, a barracks for the men to sleep in, a stable for their horses, a dining hall, and a small administrative building where the commanding officer would keep a desk. There was no wall surrounding it, but a perimeter had been set up around the post, and there were guards posted around it. As we approached, a shout went up, and almost immediately the outpost commander appeared. I dismounted immediately and greeted him. He was called Lieutenant Odrastor, a young, wiry man who conducted himself with a sternness I had not often seen in one of his age. He had received word from King Elessar a week ago that I would be arriving shortly, and so he and his rangers had spent the interim making certain that all was in proper order for my visit.  
  
He brought all of his men into formation before the barracks. Surprisingly, there was only a humble force of fifteen men in evidence. They were friendly, though they seemed somewhat nervous to meet me. I tried to put them at ease by spending a short time speaking with each of them, trying to get to know them as well as to judge the level of their morale.  
  
As I was the lieutenant's superior officer, he then offered to give me command of his troops which I refused, explaining that I had not come to interrupt the usual flow of things, only to use his outpost as a base camp for a few days while I looked at the surrounding lands. He seemed to regard this as improper but simply bowed in deference to my wishes and said no more on the subject as he dismissed the men to return to their duties.  
  
We were then shown to our cots in the barracks. Odrastor apologized for the humbleness of the surroundings, and I assured him, as my men laughed softly, that comfortable cots under a sound roof were much finer than we had been accustomed to when originally we were posted in Northern Ithilien. Lieutenant Anborn sent the men to see to our mounts while we stayed behind to chat with Odrastor.  
  
We spoke for some time about the lands of South Gondor and South Ithilien in particular. The young man was very knowledgeable about the area, telling me the mundane information about the surrounding lands: crop yields, types of fish found in the river, typical trees that grew nearby, usual weather for the different seasons. Most of this information was old news to me, and though he was well versed, the information was quite dry, and so I asked him if he would care to join Anborn and me for a walk around the camp, hoping that we might somehow thaw his rather frozen demeanor.  
  
He agreed, and his mood improved somewhat when Anborn proffered him a drink from our wineskin. Odrastor continued to speak about the area and mentioned almost casually that recently there had been sighted several bands of Haradrim lurking just on the other side of the river, as if they had been scouting, perhaps looking for food, but none had dared approach the outpost proper. This was most unwelcome news as the Haradrim were not to be trifled with, even in their army's weakened state.  
  
"Has the king been informed of this?" Anborn asked, as I scanned the far bank for signs of danger.  
  
"I had been informed that the Haradrim were oft spotted in this area by the lieutenant from whom I received this post six months ago. He said that as long as the Southrons showed no signs of aggression toward us, there was no reason for concern. Have I acted improperly, my Prince?"  
  
"Nay, Lieutenant, I would not say it was improper, but perhaps only imprudent on the part of the man who led here before you. I shall send word to the king myself, and henceforth, you should report any movements of the Haradrim with all speed, for they are not to be trusted."  
  
I then expressed a wish for him to show me around further the next day so that I might get my bearings and learn the lay of the land. I wanted a close-up view of the Fords of Poros, as I wondered how we might best defend it in the future if we were to come under attack from the Southrons, though I said naught aloud about that. And then I added that I was very interested in the Huadh in Gwanur, which is a grave-mound which contains the remains of some Rohirric lords who had been slain in battle against the Haradrim long ago. I thought I might sketch it and any marker that it might possess so that Éowyn might have some idea of what it looked like, since it was a part of her culture.  
  
"It lies nearly seven leagues upstream, my prince. I have oft thought that the grave-mound would be a good place from which to observe the far shore of the River Poros, but none is comfortable climbing atop it, as they fear the wrath of the ghosts of the men who are entombed there," said Odrastor. "Even the Haradrim are said to avoid it," he laughed before adding, "I have heard, my Prince, that you are married to a woman from Rohan. What are your thoughts on it?"  
  
"I feel that since my ancestors fought alongside those Men of Rohan that I should have nothing to fear from their ghosts, if such a thing exists."  
  
And so we sat around the campfire outside of the barracks and all of us spoke late into the night discussing Rohan, Gondor and Harad, and the odds that the next war would come soon, since the Haradrim were ever restless in the south. When at last the lieutenant departed the fire for his own bed, I found that despite the unusual quantity of wine that I had consumed that night, I was not relaxed in the least. I once again sought my ink, quill and parchment and wrote another letter to Éowyn.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
My Dearest Éowyn,  
  
I hope this letter finds you well. It is late here, the perfect  
time to compose a letter to you as I am not likely to be interrupted,  
and I should have no one looking over my shoulder and making jest.  
  
We finally arrived at the outpost this afternoon, and I spent  
the remainder of the day getting to know the men here. They seem like  
good men to me, ever capable and respectful toward me and my rangers.  
Their leader is a young lieutenant who reminds me much of myself when  
I received my first command.  
  
Tomorrow I am going to visit the Huadh in Gwanur, of which I am  
certain you are as well informed about the history as I am. As it is  
a Rohirric site, I intend to lay some flowers there in honor of your  
fallen ancestors.  
  
I wish there was more news to send to you. And it should hardly  
come as news to you that I miss you terribly and look forward to when  
we are once again united. Please take good care of yourself.  
  
I love you.  
  
Faramir  
  
Two letters had arrived from Faramir on the evening of the sixth day after he departed. It was plain from the wording he used that he still was not sleeping well despite the fact that he had not mentioned having any more dreams. Neither did I sleep well without him. He seemed to be as lonely as I was, though it seemed that he had more to keep him busy where he was than I did at home. I had spent the first three days spending some time trying to learn how to cook my husband's favorite dish, roasted chicken. Much to my chagrin, the first bird had perished in the fire, and the second two were both raw on one side while blackened on the other. Poor Talaith, our cook, threw up her hands in defeat, and though pleasant, she banned me from the kitchens.  
  
I did take some time also to walk around our estate, now that the weather was growing warmer and the plants and trees were waking from their winter sleep. And though I did dig in the soil a bit and plant a few seeds, I found the process somewhat joyless without my husband beside me. For one day, I had buried myself in Faramir's study glancing through his books, though I think that I spent more time dozing off than actually doing any reading. As a last resort, I went horseback riding around the area, hoping that this, my favorite pastime, would take my mind off of my husband's absence, but it was of no use either.  
  
Luckily, I finally received his letters, and my spirits were raised considerably by them.  
  
Faramir had mentioned that there was a grave-mound near the River Poros that I had known held two of my ancestors within it. I had heard the story of Folcred and Fastred oft enough when I was younger, twin sons of Folcwine King who had been my great-great-grandfather. They had been slain in battle by the Haradrim years ago. Never had I laid eyes upon their grave-mound, though I very much longed to someday.  
  
After some thought, I decided that this might provide me with the perfect opportunity to visit my husband at the outpost. I considered sending him a letter the next day asking for his permission to ride to the River Poros with some of the household guard so that I might lay my own eyes upon the burial mound where my dead uncles lay. It sounded so much more entertaining than staying in Emyn Arnen and learning to cook, something at which I obviously shall never succeed.  
  
But then, the more I considered the letter, the more I decided that I did not need Faramir's permission in order to leave the house. Was I not by marriage a ruler of Ithilien as well? And so immediately I called my maid, Serni, and asked her to pack a few things to take with me. She seemed shocked by my proposal, but wisely remained silent. Then I informed Captain Einarfin that I wished to depart for the south lands on the morrow.  
  
"My lady, do you think that is wise?" Despite the fact that the captain was old enough to be my father, I thought his question impudent at best. He continued, "The prince would be wroth at me if I allowed you to chase after him to South Gondor."  
  
"Captain Einarfin, the prince might be wroth with you until I remind him, and you as well, that I am a grown person, able to make my own decisions, despite my female frailty. He might stay wroth with you all of twelve seconds before his attention would be firmly fixed upon me. And as to the wisdom of this situation, I do not see where that applies. The Lord Prince has made no mention of trouble at the outpost, so other than the danger that lies in any journey one might undertake, I see no reason not to go."  
  
"But, my lady . . . "  
  
At dawn we departed Emyn Arnen for the River Poros. I dressed all in brown leather, abandoning my skirts for trousers. As an added precaution, I belted on my sword, hoping I would have no need of it, yet glad to have a reason to wear it once again. Accompanying me were four guards including Captain Einarfin. I had left the number up to him, and he told me that he thought four were more than I would actually need but enough to satisfy Faramir that I had been safe during the journey. My stallion, Windfola, was glad to be upon the road and wished to run, but I held him back, not wanting to outpace my escorts on their Gondorian mounts.  
  
It was a three-day ride, and the scenery was lovely. The farther south we rode, the wilder the land became, the woods more tangled, the hills more rocky, but I also found that the closer we came to the river, the more uneasy I became. I was anxious that Faramir would be quite wroth with me for leaving the relative safety of Emyn Arnen on a fool's errand just so I could be nearer to him. But I had come much too far to simply turn back now.  
  
Besides, I had decided that I would oppose him if he tried to send me back home. I had as much right as anyone to be there, perhaps more since I had ancestors buried near the outpost. Yet I felt guilty nonetheless. I finally settled myself by hoping that my unexpected arrival would not cause him too much dismay before I could convince him of the rightness of my being there with him.  
  
On the last day of our ride, a heavy rain began about midmorning, and I took it as a bad omen, convincing myself that Faramir would be so wroth that he would embarrass me in front of his men and banish me to Emyn Arnen without allowing me to explain myself to him. As we began the descent into the vale, I realized that I was wroth with my husband for something he had not yet done. Shaking my head, with a wry smile, I forgave him, and prepared myself to greet my husband in a respectful manner, vowing I would wait for him to draw "first blood", so to speak, before I condemned him to the full force of my anger.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Our routine remained much the same during the following few days we were there, rising early in the morning in order to have enough time to explore the area while Anar crossed the sky. We kept close watch for any trouble, but none came until the sixth full day that we were there.  
  
Ominous clouds were gathering that morning as we broke our fast with porridge and smoked fish. There was a new chill in the air as well, and we all pulled our cloaks tighter about ourselves as we helped to clean up the remains of the food and prepared to greet the day. I was a bit disappointed that the weather had taken a turn for the worse, as I was particularly excited about finally visiting the grave-mound today. I would have looked at it sooner, but a small band of Haradrim had been spotted three days ago camping near a small spinney on the far side of the river, and I thought it prudent for us to stay closer to the outpost until they departed, which they had done yesterday. There was no further sign of them, but Odrastor explained that he felt he should stay close to the outpost in case they returned, also expressing his desire for me to also stay close for my own safety.  
  
I had given Anborn, Damrod and Mablung today to do with as they wished, and they had chosen to relax and perhaps do some fishing later. Anborn also told me that he thought the journey to the grave-mound might prove unsafe or at the very best imprudent. But I would not be swayed since this might be the last chance I would have to view the Huadh in Gwanur before returning to Emyn Arnen, and despite the threat of rain, Beregond and I saddled our horses and departed the outpost at a canter, hoping to move some distance upstream through the hilly terrain before the rain began. Indeed, we had ridden nearly five leagues before the wind increased, lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and the rain began in earnest. Our cloaks did nothing to slow the drenching of our clothing, and by the time we reached the Huadh in Gwanur, we were soaked through.  
  
The grave-mound was larger than I had expected, at least twenty feet high and twice as wide at the base, the mound covered in a thick tangle of thorny trees and bushes. There was a stone marker chiseled with Rohirric markings and the inscription when translated into Westron read:  
  
A father grieves because his sons are lost, and yet he will rejoice  
that an ally has been rediscovered, and the enemy has been thwarted.  
Here lie Folcred and Fastred sons of Folcwine, their bodies rest far  
from home, yet their spirits shall dwell in the house of Eorl forever.  
  
Beregond, who did not care for rain whether he was in it or not, grumbled under his breath as I dismounted a few yards short of the hill so I that might pick some violets, crocuses and dandelions to offer to my wife's ancestors. I grinned broadly as my guard muttered something about "ridiculous weather", and then I could hardly keep from laughing out loud when I heard him say his lord "had gone daft in the head, gathering flowers like a little girl in the middle of a deluge". But I sobered as I remounted and respectfully approached the grave-mound with my bouquet, deciding once I reached it, that I would remain on my horse as a further token of respect to the fallen Horse-lords. As I leaned over to toss the bouquet onto the mound, I bowed my head for a moment of silence while Beregond sat upon his horse and watched my actions with very little interest.  
  
When I had finished, I returned to my guard and expressed profound disappointment that it was too wet to draw a sketch of the grave-mound for Éowyn, and I am certain that I saw him roll his eyes at me before he whirled his horse quickly to face the river, obviously having heard something.  
  
I remained silent and alert, attempting to scan the horizon through the heavy rain, but having little luck at it. But it was only a moment, and then my guard drew his sword which prompted me to quickly ready my bow.  
  
"Lord Faramir," said Beregond in a deadly quiet tone, "Southrons approach." 


	3. Chapter 3

A shout went up as we entered the outpost, and a thin, young man who was apparently in charge, stepped out of one of the little buildings to meet us.  
  
"May I help you, my lady?" he asked, looking a little confused at my small party.  
  
"Are you the lieutenant in charge here, sir?" I asked as I dismounted. If he was surprised by my most unfeminine choice of clothing, he did not show it.  
  
"I am Lieutenant Odrastor, at your service."  
  
I offered him my hand. "I am Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien."  
  
He took my hand and bent over it a moment. "My princess," he murmured before he stood up straight again and released my hand. "Come, let us step out of this rain." He led us to the smallest building, which I found was furnished with a table covered in maps and a desk covered in various parchments. He offered me a chair, which I took gratefully, before he seated himself behind the desk. "I was not expecting you, my princess. Your husband said naught of your arrival."  
  
"That is because my husband knows naught of my coming. I thought to surprise him. Could you direct me toward him, please?"  
  
"He is not in camp today, my princess. He has gone to look at the Huadh in Gwanur. He is expected back soon, however. I can direct you to his sleeping area if you wish to wait for him there." He suddenly seemed uncomfortable. "I regret that we do not have somewhere very private for you to sleep, my princess."  
  
I chuckled. "Do not concern yourself with that, Lieutenant, but could you only direct me to your stables? My stallion is badly in need of some fodder and a good brushing."  
  
He stood. "Of course, my princess. Follow me." Standing up as well, I went back into the weather and grasped Windfola by the reins, pulling him along as my guards followed us to the stables. They were more than acceptable despite their small size. As the Lieutenant excused himself, Captain Einarfin offered to remove Windfola's furniture and curry his coat, but I refused his offer, knowing time would pass more quickly if I had something to keep me occupied. So I saw to my own horse while my guards saw to theirs.  
  
It took about an hour to get Windfola settled in his stall, munching happily upon some oats. It was growing dark now, the rain continuing, steady and cold. Leaving my guards to their own devices, I grabbed my pack and returned to Lieutenant Odrastor's office, knocking upon the door. He bade me to enter and stood abruptly when I entered the room.  
  
"My princess, how may I help you?"  
  
"Have you seen my husband? It grows late."  
  
"No, he is not yet returned. Would you accept me as a poor substitute for his company at dinner? I was just about to go eat."  
  
I smiled at the young man. "You are most polite, Lieutenant, but I really need to change my clothing first. My leathers are yet quite damp."  
  
"Of course, my princess. Let me show you to the barracks." He offered me his arm and led me to the building where they all slept. Currently the building was unoccupied since everyone was at dinner. After lighting a lamp, the young man asked me to allow him a moment, and he moved to the end of the double row of cots, pulling some extra blankets off of the shelves at the end and set up a little room around the last two cots on the left, using some rope which was already strung across the ceiling to suspend the blankets around the cots. I questioned him about this, and he explained that it was usually used to block off the cots of any men who were ill or injured, but in this case, it was for a princess' dressing room and bedchamber. I thanked him and assured him that I would meet him in the dining hall when I was finished, since only one building remained that I had not yet entered. He smiled faintly, then bowed and departed, leaving me quite alone.  
  
I stood for a moment and listened to the rain patter upon the roof and then I sighed, wishing Faramir would return soon, so we could get our argument over with as quickly as possible. Wearily, I walked to my makeshift room, unbuckling my sword belt and shoving it under the cot, before dropping my sodden wool cloak to the floor between the cots and removing my boots. I disrobed quickly and donned some clean, dry linen undergarments, topping them with a white gown and a white woolen cloak, before replacing my boots on my feet, unwilling to waste any of my slippers to the mud.  
  
Leaving my belongings behind, I stepped back into the downpour and strode to the dining hall, where the Lieutenant was laying out a meal for me upon the long wooden table at the place next to his. He took my cloak after I unpinned it and hung it on a hook on the wall behind my chair before he seated me before a bowl of thick stew and a mug of ale along with plenty of fresh crusty bread. I noticed that Captain Einarfin was seated on the other side of me with his men on his left, and seated across from me were my husband's three rangers. I greeted them all politely, and they all smiled their welcome at me.  
  
I started to make pleasant conversation with my host though my heart was not in it. He eventually told me that he would be downhearted to see the prince return to Emyn Arnen, since his arrival had cheered all of the men so much. I reminded him that his loss would be my gain, but that I understood his point.  
  
"But what brings you this far afield, my princess? Is there aught wrong at your home?"  
  
"Nay, Lieutenant. I simply was lonely and bored." I shrugged. It seemed that my captain was about to add something to my explanation but then decided against it.  
  
The oldest of the rangers, a large man with a bushy mustache but not much hair on the top of his head, smiled and said, "Captain Faramir is going to be very surprised to see you, my lady." I returned the smile, having forgotten that Faramir's men yet called him Captain.  
  
I feigned nonchalance as I tore a piece of bread from the loaf. "Is he? Do you think he will be wroth with me?"  
  
"Nay, my lady, I think not. He was only speaking the other evening about how much he misses you, though he might be a bit nervous with you here since there have been some Haradrim spotted close by."  
  
That caught my attention. "Haradrim, you say? I was under the impression that there was little to fear here."  
  
The ranger seemed to realize that he had perhaps said too much. "Ah, the danger is small as the only Southrons we have seen have been in small bands of less than ten. Most likely they are looking for a meal."  
  
I nodded, searching the faces of the other two. They all three looked a bit uncomfortable, seeming to have trouble meeting my gaze.  
"Yes, I have heard that the plight of the people of Harad is a harsh one since the end of the War. You are probably right, Mablung," said Lieutenant Odrastor, also apparently trying to ease my fears.  
  
"Oh, I am Mablung," said the ranger to me. He pointed to the fair- haired man on his right. "That's Lieutenant Anborn." And then he pointed to the dark-haired one on his left. "And this is Damrod." They seemed surprised at first when I offered them my hand and shook each of theirs in turn.  
  
"Forgive me for having forgotten your names," I smiled. "And, also let me tell you how important you three are to me. You see, my husband, I mean Captain Faramir, speaks of you all with great fondness from his days in the Rangers, and I know if it had not been for you, I should not be the happily-married woman that I am today . . . "  
  
We spoke over dinner, and then after the dishes were cleared, we spoke further, and I gained greater insight into my husband's character, learning things about him that he never would have told me himself, lest he sound boastful to his own ears. It was obvious that these men adored him and would follow, and, indeed, had followed him to the very edge of death through more than one battle. I had not realized that the respect I felt for my husband's battle prowess could have been further heightened until this night. It became clear that he was both brave and prudent as he fought, both stern and gentle with his men. For only the briefest moment I regretted never having had the opportunity to fight by his side, as he and the Rangers of Ithilien strove to hold back the rising tide of evil which threatened to overwhelm all of Gondor.  
  
But when the stories were done, and the ale cups had all been drained, it was obvious that we were all worried because Faramir was still not returned from the wilds of Ithilien. Lieutenant Odrastor excused himself to go to bed, but the rangers and my guards seemed loath to leave me. I saw the three rangers exchange meaningful glances amongst themselves, and I wondered aloud what they were thinking.  
  
"My Lady," began Lieutenant Anborn, "Captain Faramir has been suffering his dreams again."  
  
"I know," I replied gravely. "They began when he told me that he was planning to travel to this outpost."  
  
He went on to explain how Faramir's dreams had often foretold danger, and when he was feeling particularly tired or unwell, they had often come ferociously in the night, leaving them all anxious and edgy in their wake. "I think his recent dreams point to trouble for him, especially now that he is missing.  
  
"Lady Éowyn," he continued, "we shall set out at first light for this grave-mound in search of your husband, and we will not stop looking until he is found." I quietly thanked them, and after donning our cloaks, we all went to the barracks to try to sleep, even though I knew that no sleep would come to me that night.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I was glad for Beregond's sharp senses because we maintained the advantage of not being seen by the Southrons straightaway, though we were apparently being tracked. As I lowered my bow, I motioned for him to dismount as I did the same, and I led Simbelmynë up the side of the grave- mound through the thorny vegetation with Beregond and his horse close behind.  
  
"My lord," he whispered, when we had paused atop the hill, staying low, "why do we come here?"  
  
"Because the Haradrim are a superstitious people, and I do not believe they will follow us here because of it. If we can but stay out of sight . . . "  
Perhaps as many as fifteen arrows rained down upon the hill then, but we saw their approach, and luckily, with the wind and the rain, the Southrons' aim was poor, and the arrows flew wide of their intended targets. "It does not seem they are so worried about ghosts if they are willing to shoot arrows into a grave-mound. Perhaps we should hie away from here while we still might, my lord."  
  
"Nay, Beregond. They have cut us off from the outpost. There is naught we can do but hide here and await aid." He sullenly agreed.  
  
I had hoped that the wet weather might abate at least somewhat, giving us a chance to dry ourselves and warm ourselves a bit, but if nothing else, the rain only seemed to fall harder, dampening more than our bodies. Even the horses hung their heads as if the rain was stealing their very spirits.  
  
We remained atop the mound, hidden and motionless, until the light began to fail. When darkness completely closed in, I risked standing up long enough to pull my pack from Simbelmynë's back, so that we might have something to eat. It was dark enough that I was undetected, and Beregond and I dined on damp bread that night, intending to save for breakfast the fruit that we had brought. Hopefully, we would not have to worry about finding something to eat for lunch on the morrow, trusting that the rest of our party would come searching for us before then.  
  
Beregond began to snore softly in the dark soon after the bread was eaten. I wished that I could have done likewise, though I thought that someone needed to remain alert in case the Southrons decided to make a move. I knew, though, that even if I had the opportunity, I would not sleep, or I would simply wake up screaming as usual. Éowyn came to the fore of my thoughts, and I tried to imagine what she might be doing now back in Emyn Arnen, certain that she was at least warm, dry and safe, all of the things that I longed to be at this moment. I felt a bit anxious, thinking that if she knew about my predicament, she would be wroth with me, assuming that perhaps I had lied to her about the lack of danger at the outpost. I only hoped that if my guard and I came through this unscathed, she would remain uninformed of this unexpected adventure of ours.  
  
Suddenly the oddest light appeared behind us, past the nervous horses, and I wondered as I turned toward it, if perhaps the Haradrim had somehow set a fire to flush us out. But, no, it was much too steady and white to be fire. I had never seen anything like it before. There was a strange humming sound, akin to the drone of many voices, and then I could hear individual words, not in Westron, but in Rohirric, and then finally a sentence reached my ears:  
  
"Man of Gondor, why seek ye protection amongst the thorns of this place?"  
  
I looked quickly to Beregond, but in the faint glow, I could see he yet slept.  
  
"Man of Gondor, why do ye not fear the wrath of the Rohirrim?"  
  
"Who is there?" I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes seeing nothing but blinding white light which seemed to grow brighter by the second. Suddenly in the near-blinding light were two figures who seemed to cast no shadow. Indeed, they seemed to be a part of the light. "Who is there?" I repeated, uncertain that I wholly wished to know.  
  
The figures drew closer until they were standing almost above me. They were dressed in the livery of Riders of Rohan, their golden armor and hair almost too bright to look upon, their features obscured by the brightness.  
  
"Man of Gondor, you paid us honor with your small offering. Why would a Gondorian pay honor to Rohirrim long dead?"  
  
"M-my wife . . . ." I was having trouble finding my voice.  
  
"Who is your wife?"  
  
"Éowyn of Rohan, daughter of Éomund and Théodwyn, sister to Éomer King."  
  
They were silent for a moment as if considering my words. "Who are ye, Man of Gondor?" one of them finally asked me.  
  
"I am Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien."  
  
"Long have the Stewards of Gondor and the Royal House of Eorl fought side by side, and now they are married as well. This is good. Now they shall remain as one through the ages." The voices chuckled as if they were amused by something, and then the light was suddenly gone, leaving me lying on my back in the wet darkness, breathless with awe, silently wondering what this new dream foretold, for it surely had been a dream.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It seemed dawn would never arrive, as I lay on my uncomfortable cot and listened to the rain fall, but when finally I heard some sounds from the other side of my blanket-walls, I sat up and replaced my gown with my leathers again, before retrieving my sword belt from beneath the bed, buckling it around my waist. Then I took up the damp, dark, woolen cape from the floor, putting it on before slipping my feet back into my boots. After placing my pack upon my back, I stepped out of my makeshift room, ready to accompany my husband's rangers to the Huadh in Gwanur.  
  
I had only expected the three of them to be up and dressed, but I found Captain Einarfin and my other guards were also awake, buckling on their plate armor. After we all stepped into the wet morning, Captain Einarfin told me that he had anticipated that I would wish to search for Faramir, so he had decided that he and his men would accompany me.  
  
"Captain," said Lieutenant Anborn as we all approached the stables, "you cannot possibly travel with us in that creaky plate armor of yours. We must be able to move swiftly, and above all, silently." The captain shot daggers from his eyes at the ranger but said nothing, merely following him silently. And then Anborn turned to me. "My lady, I would not have you come with us either . . . ."  
  
I held up my hand to interrupt him. "But I would go. I cannot stay here and wait another minute. And I assure you that I am well trained in the use of this sword that hangs from my waist, Lieutenant. And I shall not slow you down in any way. Besides that, I have trained as a healer. And if I should prove to be a burden to you, then I give you permission to leave me behind."  
  
Damrod laughed from behind Anborn. "Captain said she was wonderful, An. I do not think he was mistaken."  
  
Mablung laughed louder and said to me, "Young Damrod here is quite smitten with you, I think, my lady." Damrod's face turned red and he elbowed Mablung in the ribs, muttering something under his breath that I could not quite hear.  
I grinned as we entered the stables, Windfola already nickering a greeting to me.  
  
"Very well, Lady Éowyn," said Anborn. "I shall allow you to accompany us so long as you do not slow us." I nodded my thanks.  
  
"My lady," began the captain, and I turned to face him.  
  
"Captain Einarfin, please. If the lieutenant says you cannot come, then you cannot. I will not have my husband endangered, nor the lives of these rangers, because you feel that you need to protect me. Truly, I am capable of protecting myself."  
  
"Your lord husband would never forgive me . . . ."  
  
"Captain," I said, taking his mailed hand within mine, "there shall be naught to forgive. I shall be fine."  
  
He turned to Foli, who stood behind him and whispered something in his ear. Foli looked somewhat aghast, but finally nodded and held his arm out to me. "Would you be so kind as to accompany young Foli, my lady? I shall saddle your stallion while you are away." Uncertainly, I accepted Foli's arm and he led me back to the barracks.  
  
Most of the men were awake now, and Lieutenant Odrastor greeted me just inside the door, a confused look upon his face. As we watched, Foli unbuckled his plate mail, revealing his chain mail hauberk beneath. Bending at the waist, he shed the chain, letting it slide to the floor before picking it up and offering it to me. "My lady," he said, out of breath, "this is for you. It is well oiled and should draw no attention to you as you ride."  
  
Odrastor's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "My princess, you are going with them?"  
  
"Of course. I am no weak female. I was raised as an equal among men, and I can ride and fight as well as any of you might."  
  
"As you wish, my princess," he murmured. "Allow me to present five of my men to accompany you as well." Five of his men stepped forward, and we were formally introduced. "I apologize that I am unable to aid you further, as I am required to stay at the outpost today. But I wish you luck, my princess," he said as he bowed to me. "Prince Faramir is very lucky to have such a woman looking out for his welfare."  
  
As the Poros rangers filed out to the stables, I thanked the lieutenant. Then I turned and bowed before Foli and then asked him to help me on with his chain. He did, and soon I was standing in his only slightly- too-long chain mail hauberk, my long braid hidden beneath its hood. I rebuckled my sword belt around my waist and replaced my cloak, asking him what he thought about my appearance. He grinned. "I think it is good for you that I am not taller, my lady." I stepped closer to him and kissed him upon his cheek and then thanked the lieutenant again before I left them to return to the stables.  
  
I had half-expected the rangers to leave me behind, but though their horses were ready, and they were mounted and ready to leave, they had waited for me. Captain Einarfin held Windfola's head as I dragged my weight onto his back.  
  
"Good luck," was all the captain said as the rangers and I departed for the Huadh in Gwanur at a brisk trot, praying that Faramir was well.  
  
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Dawn arrived almost unnoticed, for the light was so dim through the irritating rain and clouds that it was quite late before I could see much beyond the edge of the grave-mound. Beregond had awakened sometime before then, and we lay silent in the grass, munching on pears and apples. I could not see any of the Southrons out in the wood, but both of us knew that we were yet being watched. I wondered how long we would have to wait before Anborn, Damrod and Mablung would come to our rescue. I prayed that it would not be much longer, for my body was very stiff with cold and disuse, and I was certain that when finally it came time to rise, I would have more than a little difficulty.  
  
Above all, I could not cease thinking about the figures from the white light. I did not believe in ghosts, so I knew it had to have been a dream, but I could not recall ever having fallen asleep. Also, it was odd for me to experience a dream that did not leave me sick with terror, and this dream had not done that, though I was somewhat alarmed by it. It crossed my mind to ask Beregond if he had suffered any strange visions yestereve, but I did not want to cause him any undue alarm, so I remained silent on the subject, deciding that my lack of sleep must finally be adversely affecting my wits.  
  
"Would that I had a tall mug of ale to warm me, my lord," said Beregond.  
  
I sighed. "Would that I had a warm bed and a keg of ale, Beregond. How long do you gauge we have before the men arrive to rescue us?"  
  
"Hard to say with all of the clouds, but it could not be more than another couple of hours, I think."  
  
I nodded in agreement.  
  
Beregond studied me for a moment before he asked, "Did you sleep at all last night, Lord Faramir?" I sent him a sidelong glance, and he had his answer. He nodded. "Rest if you can, then. I shall keep watch and wake you if aught changes."  
  
As much as I dreaded going to sleep, I knew the wisdom of his words and sighed heavily before I rested my head upon my forearm in a vain attempt at rest.  
  
I must have actually dozed off, because Beregond was suddenly shaking my shoulder, and I raised my head. The first thing that I noticed was that the rain finally had stopped. The second thing was a few Haradrim were firing arrows in the opposite direction from where we were lying.  
  
Beregond said with a broad smile, "I think your rangers have arrived, my lord."  
  
Though I saw a few of the Southrons fall, I could not see at whom they were firing, but the arrows that downed them were of a familiar fletch, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the rangers would reach us. I decided to aid them while we waited. Standing, I drew my bow and began firing into the undefended backs of the preoccupied Haradrim who were scattered before us. It was only a matter of moments before a few of them turned and fired back, but in their harried state, their aim was poor, and they quickly died.  
  
Beregond, meanwhile, descended the grave-mound and drew his sword, sneaking into the fray below me. The battle was drawing nearer. I could hear the ring of steel upon steel and the calls and grunts of men locked in mortal struggle in the copse beside the river. I stood silently and awaited more of the enemies to show themselves. I could hear someone approaching from somewhere on my right, running through the long grass and crashing through bushes as he ran toward my position. I knew he could not be one of my rangers, with all the noise he was making, but it seemed that he might be attempting some sort of flanking maneuver. As soon as he was in sight, I drew my sword, my arrows running low, but the soldier did not appear to be an enemy, though he did not wear a ranger's garb.  
  
He suddenly stopped running and cocked his head as if he was listening for something before he turned his face to his right. I followed the direction of his gaze and saw another Southron that I had not noticed before, drawing his bow, his arrow aimed right for the young soldier. The young man seemed mesmerized by his enemy and made no move to run as the Southron prepared to release his arrow. Without further thought, I leapt down the side of the grave-mound, crashing through the thorny underbrush, toward the soldier.  
  
As the Southron loosed the arrow, I crashed into the young man, knocking him to the ground, out of harm's way. He hit the ground with a thud, and I landed upon him with a grunt, and then I looked down into his face, concerned that he might have been injured.  
  
My mind reeled, and a numbing fear overcame me as I recognized the soldier.  
  
"Éowyn?!" 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews!!!  
  
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The start of our ride to the Huadh in Gwanur was uneventful, as we all rode anxiously along the River Poros, but we were all relieved when the rain finally ceased, though the remaining mud did naught to help our journey across the hilly terrain. Eventually Lieutenant Anborn sent two of the Poros rangers ahead to scout for trouble while the remainder of us slowed, keeping alert for an ambush from behind.  
  
When we were about six leagues from the outpost, one of the men who had been placed on point, by the name of Ulram, returned to the main group at a gallop, informing Anborn that there was a group of no less than fifty Haradrim ahead which appeared to be camped near the base of the grave- mound. Anborn's brow furrowed.  
  
"I like this not," he stated. "Did you find any sign of Captain Faramir or Beregond?" But the answer was negative. I sat upon my mount in silence, my thoughts dark.  
  
"Perhaps we should approach them under a white flag and ask them if they have seen our men," ventured one of the Poros rangers, by the name of Hador.  
  
"No. Captain Faramir said he would be returned by yestereve. Yet he was not, so we must assume that something foul has beset him."  
  
Damrod spoke. "Aye, An, but we cannot attack them without provocation. You know that."  
  
Anborn nodded. "You," he said to Ulram. "We shall return to your partner's position." Then to the remainder of us, he said, "All else stay back at least one hundred yards from us, remaining out of sight of the Southrons. We three will reveal ourselves to them, and if they attack . . . well, you know what to do. We will meet at the base of the grave-mound when all is finished. Mablung, you are in charge."  
  
It seemed a sound enough plan to me. Anborn and Ulram urged their horses away at a trot, and Mablung made sure that the remainder of us were gathered close before we followed after them. When we arrived at the appointed place, we sat upon our nervous mounts and waited. I squinted, trying to detect any movement on the top of the Huadh in Gwanur, but to no avail, for it was yet much too far away.  
  
We watched as our three rangers stepped out of the copse of trees they had hidden themselves within and hailed the Haradrim. There was a short moment when the Southrons seemed somewhat confused, but then arrows began to fly, and it was all that they could do to get safely behind cover.  
  
Mablung called for the attack and the rangers around me instantly thundered forth, their bows at the ready, arrows flying before they had moved within fifty yards of where Anborn was hidden. I stayed back, possessing no bow, but ready for close battle when the arrows were spent. It seemed to be going well, though I saw one of the horses go down, a black Haradrim arrow jutting from its neck. I quickly realized it was Anborn's horse that had been slain. I moved forward and offered him a seat behind me upon Windfola. He accepted gratefully and I gave him my arm and a stirrup so he could mount.  
  
Once he was behind me, he loosed arrows like a madman, downing Southrons faster than I could count them. As he shot, he asked, "Have you spied aught of your husband yet, Lady Éowyn?"  
  
I shook my head, though my gaze returned to the grave-mound. I could see a patch of white through the tangled brush upon the hill. Upon a lengthier examination, I realized that it must be Simbelmynë's white coat. "I see something up there, Lieutenant," I informed him. "You stay with Windfola. I must go to him."  
  
Anborn called after me as I dismounted, but I needed to keep moving and did not slow, keeping as low to the ground as I could, while running roughly parallel to the line of Haradrim which had formed and were slowly advancing toward the rangers. It was not long before I heard the sound of swords clanging against each other, and I silently prayed that the rangers were all faring well in the battle.  
  
When I reached a stand of trees, I came upon a few stragglers, who, not expecting me, were instantly cut down by my sword. Though I had lost sight of the grave-mound, I continued to circle the battle, my ultimate goal being the Huadh in Gwanur, where I prayed that I would find my husband unharmed.  
  
I was perhaps thirty feet from the grave-mound, when I broke free of the trees, stopping to listen, thinking someone might have followed me. I heard a sudden sound to my right and turned my head toward it, hoping to spy its source.  
  
I saw the Haradrim nock the arrow. I saw him take aim at me. And then I saw him loose the arrow, his expression strangely blank. What I failed to see, even as this missile of death hissed toward me through the air, was my husband, who had also launched himself toward me in an attempt to keep me out of danger. His hands roughly shoved me to the ground as his body landed atop mine, knocking the breath from my lungs. I lay stunned beneath him for a moment, unable to catch my breath, as his grey eyes lit with recognition and then darkened in concern, scanning my face. His voice was edged with panic, as he sobbed my name and then pled with me to speak to him.  
  
"F-Faramir, please, you are crushing me."  
  
Comprehension lit his eyes and he quickly shifted himself onto his side next to me, careful to stay low enough so that no one else could take aim.  
  
I took a deep breath and swallowed before I glanced down at my own body to reassure myself that I yet remained relatively unharmed, but my eyes were immediately drawn to a thick, black arrow shaft fletched with white feathers that protruded from Faramir's left side. It dawned on me slowly what had just happened, and my heart sank as my gaze flew to his pale face. His expression was one of surprising calm, and I took strength from it even as he rolled onto his back, a low groan escaping his throat. I found my breath was missing again.  
  
But his calm was quickly replaced by a certain wildness. "By the Valar, Éowyn, what are you doing here?" he moaned, attempting to keep a quiet tone.  
  
"Hush, Faramir," I said, as I gently moved myself over him, trying to judge how deeply the foul tip had penetrated his torso.  
  
"I will not!" he hissed. "You are supposed to be safe in Emyn Arnen!"  
  
I looked again at his face and was startled by the mix of emotions there, the chief ones being fear and anger. This was the reaction that I had expected from him upon my arrival, but never could I have foreseen the circumstances surrounding it. Despite the situation, I felt my ire rising to meet his. "What right do you have to tell me where I am supposed to be?"  
  
"Éowyn, I am your husband." He squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.  
  
"You never said that I could not leave Emyn Arnen, husband. I shall do as I wish," I stated quietly. His breath caught in his throat as he accidentally bumped the arrow shaft with his arm.  
  
"Eru's tears, I never thought I should have to endure this again," he whimpered as he, too, looked down at himself and tried to ascertain his condition.  
  
Though I have been trained as a healer, and indeed spent several months helping in the Houses of Healing, never had I seen my own husband so badly injured, and I felt a moment of panic as the blood welled from the wound. But I immediately realized what I should be doing and set my emotions aside for later, as I flung my leather gloves off, tucking them into my belt. The arrow had managed to penetrate at the weakest point of his armor, the lacing that ran from arm to hip. I pulled the torn, bloodied lacing away, drawing the cuirass open, doing the same with his surcoat and finally his gambeson. All that remained was his linen shirt, already saturated with blood around the wound.  
  
Faramir lay still beneath me, breathing heavily as I removed his dagger from the sheath on his belt and sliced the shirt open. For a moment, our eyes met, and I knew that though there probably would be further discussion later, he was no longer truly wroth with me.  
  
"It does not appear to be deep, love," I reassured him, as I turned my attention back to his side.  
  
"Take it out," he urged, breathlessly.  
  
"A moment, Faramir." After laying the dagger next to him, I pulled myself off of him and moved myself once again to the grass beside him. I unfastened my cloak pin and rolled off of the woolen fabric, pulling it over his body. He looked amazed by the chain mail that I revealed, but said naught of it.  
  
"Quickly, Éowyn. They may be approaching as we speak."  
  
I sighed, knowing he was right, but I worried that being informed of the added pressure would not help me to assist him any more rapidly. "Find something to bite upon, Faramir." It was much too obvious that he had been in this situation before. He instantly pulled off the thick leather glove from his left hand and stuffed the cuff of it between his teeth before looking at me and nodding, bracing himself for the pain. I leaned over him once more, and he instantly slid his right arm under my body, before placing his left hand under his head.  
  
Without further delay, I slid the tip of the dagger into the wound to judge the depth of it. His body tensed beneath mine and his breathing became ragged, but he made no other sound as I probed. I had been right, the tip was not deep at all, but the arrowhead was lodged between the lowest two of his ribs, and it appeared that it would not be removed easily. Besides that, I knew that the wound would bleed copiously once the arrow was freed from his flesh.  
  
Suddenly I realized that there were sounds of someone else approaching, and my husband and I both reached for our swords simultaneously. But thankfully it was only Beregond, who was not very stealthy in his plate armor. The guard gasped in dismay at his lord's condition even as he ducked down beside us and kept watch.  
  
"My lord, we must return you to the safety of the grave-mound," he said.  
  
Faramir removed the glove from his mouth and after searching my face for a moment, he nodded and said, "Help me up, Beregond."  
  
"Nay, Beregond, I would not have him shot again."  
  
The guard grimly smiled at me. "I shall shield him from further harm, my lady. You keep low and go ahead of us. And mind the thorns." Nodding, I raised myself from my husband's frame, retrieved my cloak from him and replaced it around my shoulders, pulling the hood over my head. As I rose and moved forward, I heard Faramir groan in agony as Beregond lifted him from the grass.  
  
I scrambled up the hill before the guard and tried to hold back as many of the prickly branches out of his way as I could, as he half-carried and half-dragged his lord to the top. He gingerly settled Faramir into the damp grass and cradled my husband's head upon his lap.  
  
"What else might I do to help, Lady Éowyn?" asked Beregond, with obvious worry for his prince.  
  
"Hold him fast, Beregond," I told him before telling Faramir to try to prepare himself for the pain that was yet to come. He nodded and replaced the edge of his glove between his teeth as I straddled his legs and bent over him. Beregond crossed Faramir's arms across this chest and pressed his wrists against his shoulders as I slid the tip of the dagger back into the wound to widen it enough that I might pull out the arrow with more ease.  
  
Faramir shuddered in agony but made no sound besides his harsh breathing. His blood flowed over my fingers as I worked quickly but carefully to pry the arrowhead from his ribs. I finally pulled upon the shaft with a steady pressure, working it back and forth, and praying that it would come free soon, as it seemed that my husband had nearly reached the end of his endurance.  
  
I made the mistake of looking upon my patient's face, and I glimpsed the pleading look in his grey eyes, unintentional tears running down his cheeks, and I realized that if he had not had that glove in his mouth, he would be begging me with his voice as well. Guilt flooded me because I knew that his condition was all my fault.  
  
Without further thought, I shifted myself off of his legs and sat beside him, bracing my booted feet against him on either side of the foul arrow, before pulling at it with both hands. No longer could Faramir hold back his cries, and Beregond looked around us as if making certain that we were yet alone.  
  
With a suddenness that I deem startled us all, the arrow finally dislodged from him, and I nearly fell backward with the effort I had exerted. Worried, I pressed my cape against the wound, hoping to staunch the flow of Faramir's lifeblood from his body, as I examined the tip of the arrowhead. I sighed in relief as it did not appear to be poisoned. Beregond released Faramir's arms gently laying them at his sides, lowered his head to the ground, pulling the glove from his slack lips, and stood slowly, crossing to his horse for something from his pack.  
  
Faramir's face was as pale as death, a sheen of cold sweat there, his breathing shallow and uneven. I prayed to the Valar that he would not die. Beregond returned with a shirt that he quickly ripped into strips before he knelt and propped Faramir up enough for us to wind the makeshift bandages around his body, clothes, cuirass and all, hoping they would hold well enough until we could return the prince to the outpost.  
  
"Beregond, we must bring him out of this chill air. He needs warmth and rest." My voice was shaking, indeed, my entire body shook, and I hoped that the guard did not notice.  
  
"It remains unsafe, my lady. The battle yet rages below," he murmured. Leaving Faramir propped against his chest, Beregond removed his own cape and draped it over the prince. "You did well, Lady Éowyn," he quietly assured me, but all I could think about was that my hands were yet covered with my husband's blood, both literally and figuratively. Suddenly, I felt very tired. After using my already-ruined cloak to wipe my hands clean of most of Faramir's blood, I crawled closer to where Beregond was kneeling and stroked my husband's cheek with the back of my fingers.  
  
"My lady," Beregond said quietly after a short time, "if you would take him, I shall ride down and see if the Haradrim have been successfully thwarted." I nodded silently and after rising, moved around to the other side of Faramir, knelt and slipped my arms around him as Beregond released him and stood. "I shall return as soon as I might, my lady." He mounted his horse and galloped away with all haste.  
  
I cradled Faramir's head gently against my shoulder, my tears further dampening his face as I silently begged him to forgive me my selfishness.  
  
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"Man of Gondor . . . " It was but a whisper at first, but I realized immediately that the Rohirrim from my first dream had returned. They called to me until I finally acknowledged them.  
  
"Man of Gondor, your lady wife, our niece is most beautiful. Ye are a very fortunate man that a shield-maiden such as she consented to marry ye."  
  
They did not say aught of which I was not already well aware, so I chose to remain silent. I was much too tired to speak if there was no need for it.  
  
"We thank ye for protecting our niece and her son from the Haradrim and accept your blood as another honorable offering."  
  
I lay silent within the comforting darkness, vaguely listening to their words, and I suddenly realized that they had said something that made little sense to me.  
  
"Your niece and . . . her son?" I breathed.  
  
"Yea, Steward of Gondor, her son . . . and yours."  
  
I was stunned. Éowyn was with child! Joy blossomed in my heart, and I heard their laughter and joined them in it as I finally realized what their words meant.  
  
"Faramir?" Éowyn's voice chased away my dream. "Are you laughing, my husband?"  
  
I slowly opened my eyes, squinting against the harsh light of day, groaning in protest of the pain in my side. Dimly realizing that we were yet upon the grave-mound, I felt a comforting presence at my back, and I turned my head to look into my love's beautiful face, as she gazed at me from her position behind me. She looked somewhat bemused, I thought, and I could not help but smile at her disconcerted expression. Her fingers brushed my face as if she were searching for something there, and I leaned into her touch.  
  
"Faramir, dear? Were you laughing?"  
  
"I was," I admitted. She shifted her hold on me somewhat so she could see my face better, and I sighed to feel her arms so firmly about me. "How do you feel, my love?" she asked, obviously worried.  
  
"Absolutely wonderful, Éowyn." Again her hand rested against my cheek, and I reassured her with a chuckle that I was not burning with fever. "I know of your secret, my dearest."  
  
Her brow furrowed. "My secret? Faramir, whatever are you speaking of?"  
  
"I know that you carry our son within you." I smiled broadly at her.  
  
She gasped softly, and her hand instinctively reached toward her belly, tears springing to her wondering eyes. "How could you know that, Faramir, when I am yet uncertain of it myself?"  
  
I was doubtful that she would believe the truth of my tale, and as I related to her both of my Rohirric dreams, her expression remained unreadable. When I had finished, she sat silently a moment, and then her eyes sparkled with yet more tears, and a wondrous smile lit her face, and she was so beautiful that I could almost not bear to look upon her.  
  
"If my uncles Folcred and Fastred told you that I bear your son, then it must be truth." Then she hugged me more tightly against her and as she wept, she alternately thanked me and begged me for my forgiveness, kisses and tears raining upon my face.  
  
I wished to comfort her, for she seemed to feel she had done something to wrong me, but I was exhausted, my body beginning to betray me, and I did not have the strength to force it to obey. I slipped into dreamless sleep, the sound of my wife's voice murmuring sweet words in my ear.  
  
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My husband's rangers returned on foot with Beregond, who was leading his horse, a short while after Faramir slipped back into unconsciousness. I was yet weeping over him, overcome with emotion to know that we were to be parents, but as I looked up at the men, I saw their faces were ashen, their expressions twisted with sadness.  
  
"What has happened?" I asked, wondering who might have fallen in battle. Lieutenant Anborn found his voice first as they all approached us slowly.  
  
"My lady," he began, his voice quavering, "I am so sorry." All of them sank to the ground around us, grief etched on their faces. It was then that I realized that they had misunderstood my tears and thought that their Captain had not survived his wound.  
  
They must have deemed me hysterical when I started to laugh through my tears. "He lives yet," I told them. Their relief was a palpable wave of released breath and quiet prayers of gratitude to the Valar. "I cry only because I love him so very much."  
  
Anborn was the first to stand. "My lady, let us hasten your lord husband back to the outpost at once. I think we are all desperately in need of a rest."  
I nodded and allowed him to lift Faramir from my arms. As we all stood, Beregond mounted his horse and then the rangers carefully raised my husband onto the horse before his guard. After retrieving my husband's bow and pack, stuffing his gloves within it, I mounted Simbelmynë and followed Beregond's mount to the base of the grave-mound, where the Poros rangers awaited us. I took note that none of them seemed to be badly injured as my husband's rangers mounted their horses, and we started back to the outpost at a pace that would not jar Faramir's injury too badly.  
  
It was quite late when we finally arrived at the outpost, having stopped once to rebind Faramir's wound when it bled through his bandages. Lieutenant Odrastor appeared from his office as we approached, and he looked stunned at my husband's condition. Quickly he ushered Anborn, who had taken Faramir again from Beregond, through the barracks, and they gently deposited him in one of the cots behind my curtains. Lamps were brought for added light, as the men dexterously stripped Faramir's baldric, cloak, cuirass, belt, greatcoat, gambeson, and finally, his ruined linen shirt from his shivering frame, while I held clean bandages firmly against his side.  
  
"If there is aught you require, my princess, I will have it brought to you," Odrastor finally said when my husband lay more peacefully upon the straw mattress.  
  
"Heat is the chief thing, Lieutenant. That, and more blankets," I said as I pulled off Faramir's boots and unfastened his trousers, bidding Anborn to remove them. I had not realized that Odrastor had yet departed until he had returned, he and Ulram bearing a small brazier to the bedside, and Ulram began to build a fire within it while Odrastor went to retrieve more blankets.  
  
Captain Einarfin arrived with his men as well, their faces grim.  
  
"Are you injured as well, Lady Éowyn?" he asked, when he noticed the frightening quantity of blood upon my cape.  
  
"Nay, Captain, I am well." I spared a moment to face the guards. "Could you bring the sewing kit to me at once?" Without a word, William was away.  
  
"I shall send word at once to the king of his steward's condition and of the situation with the Haradrim," Einarfin told Odrastor before he ordered Foli and Sirinto to Minas Tirith. Odrastor called to two of his men and commanded them to accompany my guards on their journey.  
  
"Wait, Foli!" He halted and I bade him to help me remove his chain hauberk. He smiled a little, and I bent while he pulled it off. "Thank you so much," I said. He simply nodded and slung it over his shoulder, departing with a bow.  
  
Soon Faramir was resting comfortably, his wound cleaned, sewn, and properly bandaged, and he was finally sufficiently warmed. Both Odrastor and Anborn were bidding me to take some sleep while I might. I nodded, accepting the suggestion with a yawn. And then all of the men were gone and I was left alone with Faramir.  
  
I extinguished all of the lamps but one before I began to remove my clothing, feeling more than a little begrimed between the rust stains upon my skin from the borrowed hauberk and the mud from the journey. When I was properly attired in a gown, I sat upon the edge of Faramir's cot and took his hand in mine, softly stroking his hair with the other.  
  
And I gazed with wonder upon him as he slept, mystified by the dreams he had spoken of, this husband of mine, who had gotten me with child and had known of it before me. 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you for the reviews!! Sorry this chapter is so short....  
  
I laid upon the cot next to my husband's and watched him sleep, worried about his health and yet content to be near him. It seemed that he was finally getting the rest that he so desperately had been lacking these past few weeks. But I hoped when he finally awakened that he would not be too wroth with me for putting him in danger, though it had been obvious that he had not realized that it was me that he had rescued from the Southron's arrow, until he had seen my face. But still I knew that it was my fault that he was lying wounded upon his cot, though I thanked the Valar for allowing me keep him yet a while longer.  
  
Faramir awakened with a start, and I thought it perhaps from pain or yet another nightmare. I rose quickly and offered him some water, and he asked me if I had heard a noise. Listening, I could not say that I had and bade him to return to sleep, sitting down once again upon my own bed, watching him, making sure that he was comfortable again.  
  
I heard it then, an odd thump that sounded like an arrow striking a wooden target. Faramir's eyes flew open, and then there was shouting from outside and inside chaos ensued.  
  
"Faramir," I said, my tone urgent as I realized that it was a Haradrim ambush. I worried that he was too badly injured to be easily roused from bed, but he was sitting up almost instantly, pulling on his discarded trousers and boots. I began to dress in my leathers as well, leaving my gown in a heap upon the floor, and then my husband was upright and clumsily yanking on the remainder of his clothing, fumbling for a moment as he had forgotten that the left-side lacings had been ruined and discarded. As I buckled on my sword belt, he leaned over and kissed me upon the cheek, and together we raced from the barracks.  
  
As soon as we stepped into the outdoors, I saw the stable roof was beginning to smolder, so I scrambled in that direction, hoping to spare the horses a fiery death. Men were running everywhere, but it was obvious that there was no hope left for the outpost.  
  
I entered the stable and opened each stall, shouting at the horses to scare them out. The smoke was growing thicker by the moment, and I knew that there was not a minute to spare when the flames appeared above me, and the wood began to groan as it burned.  
  
As I finally freed the last horse, I began to choke, unable to breathe, and I heard Faramir calling out to me, but I could not see him. I should have died there had he not reached me then, and somehow he lifted me into his arms, and he carried me out of the stables and back into the confusion outside.  
  
As I managed to take in several deep breaths of air, I could see the enemy closing in around us. Faramir mentioned the babe, our son, and told me to run north, pointing urgently in that direction. But knowing that he was unwell, and though he looked at me with determined stoicism, I felt that I should try to convince him that he should flee as well.  
  
"You are coming with me." I had meant it to sound forceful, but my voice was tremulous and weak from more than just the smoke.  
  
"Go, my dear. I shall follow you soon," he said. His voice sounded reassuring, and so I ran, knowing that if I remained here, it would hinder us both in battle. I turned back once to see if he was yet alive and caught sight of the graceful arc of his sword decapitating a man, his movements fluid and lithe, belying the deadliness of his blade. It was obvious, though, that he would be overrun by the enemy at any moment. I drew my sword, fully intending to return to his side, but Einarfin appeared at mine and took me in hand, leading me toward safety, even as I heard Faramir's voice lifted to sound the retreat northward.  
  
He comes now, I thought, and I ran all the more quickly for it. We stayed together, the eight men who remained alive and I, but if I had known that Faramir was not close behind us, I would have returned for him. Instead we lunged forward, hoping blindly that we could outpace the Haradrim, though we were a ragged group at best. Damrod had taken an arrow through the arm, and the wound was bleeding horrifically since there was no way to stop to bandage it. Beregond had a cut on his forehead that would probably require stitching. One of the Poros rangers was wheezing badly. His mate who was dragging him along mentioned having pulled the ranger from one of the burning buildings, so I thought his condition was merely smoke damage, but it was not long after the dawn that the boy, for that is what he was, began to cough blood, and it was not long after that he fell dead, his lungs too badly damaged to sustain life any longer. His friend prayed over the body for a just moment, and then came with us, though tears coursed down his cheeks at the loss of his fellow ranger.  
  
Lieutenant Anborn seemed to view me as his personal responsibility, and I found that he and Beregond were always at my side, unwilling to run far ahead of me for any reason. Wordlessly, Anborn took my hand and veered from the road, leading us all into the dense underbrush of the forest of South Ithilien, running almost soundlessly, moving us forward as if he had lived there for his entire existence. I was awed by his ability, and I found myself trying to emulate him, placing my feet in the same places as he did as we hurried, trying to lose the throng that hunted us.  
  
It was not until midmorning that Anborn allowed us to stop. Mercifully, we could rest for a bit in a small clearing that he had discovered. I immediately began to tend the wounded, making do with strips torn from the men's shirts since we were without proper bandages. It was only when my charges were resting that I wholly turned my thoughts toward my husband. I asked Anborn where he thought Faramir might be, and when I saw the look upon his face, my heart sank with dread.  
  
"Lieutenant, surely you believe that your captain yet lives," I murmured.  
  
His answer was only to look down upon the ground that he was sitting upon, picking at the leaf litter with calloused hands. I could not bear to look upon his expression anymore, and so I looked at the ground as well.  
  
"Anborn, surely you believe that Faramir is yet alive. Did you see him fall?"  
  
"Nay, lady." And his voice was ragged with emotion. "And yet, he is not here."  
  
"But he was wounded, you remember. Perhaps he is delayed due to it."  
  
"Lady Éowyn, I would not venture to guess. I know only that he is not here. I would that he should walk now from betwixt those trees yonder, but he does not. There is naught that can be done save hope for his safe arrival in Minas Tirith." Though I knew in my head the logic of his words, my heart railed against them.  
  
Mablung moved next to me then and sank down beside me with a sigh. "We shall keep you safe, my lady, until the return of your husband," he murmured, sending a pointedly forbidding look to Anborn. "The Captain is an exceptionally skilled ranger. He has not let us down before."  
  
"Mab, it is cruel to raise false hope," whispered Anborn, though I know not why he bothered since I could hear every word.  
  
Mablung raised his voice. "An, it is cruel to crush real hope, and until I see with my own eyes aught to the contrary, the Captain is alive, and I will hear naught more upon the subject." I saw some of the other men nod in agreement, including Lieutenant Odrastor. Anborn's expression was stony, but it softened eventually as he nodded as well, before he rose and announced that we must begin moving again so as not to waste the distance we had placed between ourselves and the Southrons.  
  
Mablung stood and helped me and Beregond to our feet, and then we all continued northward through the forest, not quite as quickly as before, but no less stealthy anyway.  
  
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I was awakened by a sound that seemed out of place, and so I did not recognize it at first. It was not a gradual awakening. It was sudden, and I mistakenly attempted to sit, mere movement stealing my breath from me. Instantly Éowyn was hovering beside me, cooing soft words into my ear while her hand gently lifted my head from the pillow, and she bade me to drink from a cup of cool water that she held to my lips. I took a couple of sips before I asked, "Did you not hear that?" as she carefully released me.  
  
"Hear what?" She sat very still on the edge of my cot and listened, but there was no sound save for the snores of the few men who were sleeping. "Sleep, love," she finally whispered, stroking my brow once. "It is almost morning."  
  
I put the sound from my mind as Éowyn drifted away from me, but just as I was dozing again, I heard it again, a strange thump, but this time there was no mistaking it as a voice was raised, calling out a word that I did not understand at first. But then a chorus was taken up, and I at last realized what the word was.  
  
"Fire!"  
  
"Faramir." Éowyn's deadly serious tone brought me fully alert, and I do not remember how, but suddenly I was standing beside her, tugging my tattered clothing and cuirass on dazedly. The barracks had become a madhouse with men shouting and cursing in their haste to be out of their cots. Éowyn, too, was quickly dressing in her leathers and fastening her sword to her waist. I could not help but lean over and give her a quick kiss on the cheek before we emerged into the chill night.  
  
The air hung thick with smoke, and I saw that the sentries were dead, their bodies riddled with arrows. The dining hall was fully engulfed in dancing flames, and flaming arrows fell from the sky, raining yet more fire upon the roof of the building that we had only just vacated.  
  
I spied Éowyn running across the damp grass, ignoring all danger as she hurried to reach the stables before the fire could kill our horses. I chased after her as I quickly realized that there was naught else that we could do here, save flee. My side screamed in protest as I tried to keep up with her, but I put the pain from my mind, my only concern being the safety of my family. One end of the roof of the stables was aflame, the horses within screaming wildly in protest as they kicked at the walls that held them in. My wife barely paused to fling open the door, and as she darted inside, opening the gate of each stall, our mounts began to blindly flee the burning building one after the other.  
  
The hair on the back of my neck stood up in horror as I heard the structure begin to creak, the dry wood being quickly consumed by the flames. Without any further thought I darted between the stampeding animals and into the smoky interior of the building.  
  
I called to her, unable to disguise the panic in my voice even as I began to choke, but I could not see her between the darkness and the smoke. Against all instincts for my own safety, I felt my way forward, staying close to the edge of the stalls so as not to be inadvertently trampled by a freed stallion. I could hear her coughing now, and then she was next to me, her fingers clawing at my arm as she struggled for breath in the thick smoke. With strength that I did not know I yet owned, I picked her up and carried her out of the building with all haste, setting her down upon her feet when we reached the somewhat fresher air outside. She hung heavily upon me, wheezing for air, as did I, but I still had enough breath to tell her to run toward the north side of camp.  
  
She looked upon me as if I were insane until she spotted a few Haradrim approaching our meager forces, swords drawn. I spoke into her ear, "For the child, Éowyn. Run north, and do not stop," hoping duty would compel her to obey me.  
  
"You are coming with me," she said, though it was more of a question than a statement.  
  
"Go, my dear. I shall follow you soon." There was no time for more, and she turned and ran. I sent a silent prayer to the Valar that they would keep her safe as I turned and faced my first foe, his face painted red, a wild gleam in his eye that I sought to dull very quickly.  
  
He died soon enough and another and yet another, but there were five more to take his place, and what was left of our small company was outnumbered ten to one. I called a retreat to the forest for those of us who yet remained upright, and the command was echoed by Anborn and Odrastor. I thought to bring up the rear, trying to keep my men safely before me as we fled, but suddenly I was cut off from them, and the only option that was left to me was to run south. At any second I expected an arrow to thump me in the back, but luck was with me, and I reached the river intact. Without further thought, I leapt into the frigid water and allowed it to swallow me, carrying me southward to somewhere a bit safer.  
  
Unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with the downstream portion of the River Poros, and as I surfaced in the darkness, I realized that the current had become much stronger. Though I am a strong swimmer, soon it was all I could do just to keep my head above the surface, as I was slammed again and again against rocks and other debris hidden within the churning water.  
  
And then my hip banged into something very solid that rapidly spun me around, almost pulling me under again. I held my left arm before me to deflect aught else the moiling river might have rammed me into, but it was of no use. When at last the moment came, my arm snapped like dry kindling, and I was only rescued from the blinding pain when my head hit the same obstacle, plunging me instantly into oblivion.  
  
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We reached the edge of the River Anduin the next night. I would not say that we were overjoyed to see the boundary of the water, but after two full days of running from the Southrons, we were most glad for the refreshment that the river provided. Anborn allowed the men to build a small fire, and we gathered around it, happy to have something else to concentrate on besides our current troubles.  
  
Damrod's arm wound had festered, and his fever was rising by the minute. Mablung had dragged him along through the forest, eventually shouldering the man and carrying him. When we reached the river, Mablung stripped his friend of his armor and clothing and immersed his body in the river, trying to lower the man's body temperature with the only means that we had at our disposal. After a short time, they returned to the fireside, and Mablung held the younger man, wrapped in a cloak, against his chest, as if Damrod was merely a child, while I reopened the wound with a borrowed dagger and then cleaned the infection out with river water. Mablung gave me his thanks, and I rebound the wound with what was left of Damrod's linen shirt, and I sent a silent prayer to the Valar that we would not be forced to take the ranger's arm from him.  
  
Anborn and Odrastor had done a fine job of keeping us fed with the natural abundance of the forest, mostly presenting us with leaves and roots that they had found while we were on the run, but I found that I was not hungry this evening, Faramir's fate again in my thoughts. By my reckoning, Foli and Sirinto and the two Poros rangers should reach Minas Tirith in another one or two days if they rode stopping only long enough to rest their mounts. And then it would most probably take the king's army four or five days to reach the River Poros.  
  
My heart was breaking at the mere thought of Faramir. I could not believe he was yet dead, though if he was injured somewhere and was forced to wait a week for aid, the worst might happen. I felt that I had no one to speak to, for each time I tried to broach the subject, an uneasiness gripped us all, and everyone would grow quiet. And though I respected his ability as a ranger, I found myself now avoiding Lieutenant Anborn simply because he believed that Faramir was dead. Always did I stay between Mablung and Beregond, though tonight I found myself between Beregond and Damrod as Mablung and I tried our best to preserve the injured ranger's body heat, while poor Damrod thrashed in fevered nightmares.  
  
"Is there naught else that we can do for him, my lady?" asked Mablung in the middle of the night, obviously distressed at Damrod's condition. I had spent a good portion of the previous hour bathing the ranger's forehead, wishing that the fever would break.  
  
"Nay, Mablung. He needs his wound to be properly tended some place where he can lie still and truly rest for longer than only a couple of hours."  
  
Anborn approached us and knelt next to Damrod. "We cannot stay here long, not even for Dam. We must keep moving so we can be certain to stay ahead of the Southrons, but I assure you, Mablung, I will see that he receives the best of care as soon as we reach Minas Tirith."  
  
Mablung nodded gravely, and Anborn called us all to our feet. Mablung cradled Damrod in his arms and we moved upstream, letting Mablung set the pace. And so we continued for the rest of the night and most of the next day, the men taking turns bearing Damrod forth. Mid-afternoon, I asked finally if we could stop for a bit, as I was feeling rather ill though I did not mention that.  
  
"My lady?" questioned Mablung, laying his hand upon my back. "Is there aught wrong?"  
  
"Nay, sir. I am well enough. It is only that I am weary," I lied, and he knew it, for I felt blackness closing in at the edges of my vision and a strange humming noise began in my ears.  
  
"Anborn!" I faintly heard the shout, and then I was looking up at the concerned faces of my companions, uncertain of how I had come to be there. I made to sit up, feeling embarrassed by my weakness, but three pairs of hands were instantly gently holding me down, and Mablung commanded me to relax. "It must be from the strain of the past few days," whispered someone who was out of my line of sight.  
  
Beregond smiled wanly at me and slipped his arms under me, lifting me from the damp ground. "I shall carry you a while, Lady Éowyn."  
  
"Nay, Beregond, I am well," I protested. "I do not wish to be a burden."  
  
"Ah, you are not as heavy as Damrod, my lady, and much easier on the eyes as well," he chuckled. "Do not fear. You are no burden to me. Rest and regather your strength." And so I did as I was bidden, knowing that though I could often defy my husband, there would be no disobeying his men in his absence. 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I had a good day, so here's another chapter. Enjoy, Carrie S!!!!!!  
  
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I have oft thought that the White City of Gondor is always most beautiful in the morning, for it was morning in Minas Tirith when I had first laid eyes upon my husband in the gardens. And now it was morning again, and we had reached the east side of Osgiliath and were at last crossing the Pelennor Fields, eager to be within the Great Gate of Minas Tirith.  
  
When we had reached the ruined city, we found it teeming with rangers, and thankfully they recognized us and gave us food and water while bearing Damrod and Mablung, who would not leave his friend's side, ahead to Minas Tirith on horseback. They offered to take me as well, but I was content to stay in this crumbling place with Beregond and Einarfin as my protection for now.  
  
Lieutenant Odrastor offered a full report to the man in charge of the Osgiliath rangers, Captain Meneldil. He listened to the report, his face growing more serious with every word.  
  
"We had heard the report brought to the king by your men only two days past, but the army has not been sent yet, though they should be ready to leave this afternoon."  
  
I interrupted him. "They have not yet departed? Why is this?"  
  
"My lady, it takes some time to ready so many. They are still packing provisions for their journey southward. We have been sent here to protect the crossing so none might pass through the Rammas Echor and into the Pelennor without our approval."  
  
Though I knew the slowness of the army was not his fault, I yet yelled at him. "Captain, my husband could very well lie wounded somewhere along the Harad Road because the army has not yet departed! Instead of guarding this crumbling heap of rocks, you should be hastening to the River Poros before any other fine men are taken from us!" Beregond laid his hands upon my shoulders, trying to calm me, but I shrugged him off and ran to the edge of the river, wishing to be alone.  
  
After a short while, from close behind me, someone cleared his throat. I did not turn, and so Anborn came a little closer and began to speak. "My lady, how fare you?"  
  
"I am well enough," I muttered, hugging myself tightly against a sudden chill.  
  
He tried again. "Has your husband ever told you of the day when we fled from this place during the War?"  
  
It was not a question that I had expected. I turned to face him, and stood silently for a moment, judging his expression. I decided that he looked tired, no, he looked defeated. "Faramir spoke of the day, though not in much detail," I offered, recalling the evening when I had reached the outpost and had dinner with the rangers. The Osgiliath retreat was the one battle that no one had mentioned.  
  
"Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you knew that no matter what, you could not be successful?" I shook my head, and he continued, "Captain Faramir had been in that position for years, placed there by his father. He thought that we did not know of the strange relationship that he held with his father, but we did. All of us did. And when his father, the Steward of Gondor, commanded him to hold Osgiliath before the whole host of Mordor, he resigned himself to his fate. And he resigned his men to it as well."  
  
I was going to interrupt him, but he held up his hand. "Do not misunderstand me, Lady Éowyn. If Captain Faramir had bid us to drown ourselves in the River Anduin, we would have done it without question, for he was a fair and wise commander, regardless of his father's opinion of him. And we knew that if he needed something to be accomplished, we would give everything that we had to complete the task for him."  
  
Anborn came closer to the edge of the water and stood next to me, gazing out over the water, the city at his back. "During the retreat from Osgiliath, we gave him everything. We were greatly outnumbered, we were weary, and above all, we were frightened. The captain himself felt all of those, too. I had watched him from the time I joined the Rangers of Ithilien. I watched him fade with the strain of the command, never having any time to rest, nor to relax, nor even put his mind upon more pleasant thoughts, for there was naught else for him but Gondor and the concerns of being the second son of the man who constantly found fault with all that he did. And then when Boromir fell. . . ." His head drooped, and his eyes clouded as he remembered, but I would not speak.  
  
Finally he continued. "He called the retreat because it was foolish to stay there any longer, and yet even when the Southrons began to pour through the Rammas Echor, he stayed behind just a bit, making certain that those of us who yet stood were ahead of him. Five leagues, my lady, we fled, our friends falling dead around us, and yet always near us was his voice, reassuring us, urging us forth, though we knew that few of us, if any, could live through that terrible day.  
  
"And, near the end, the Winged Shadows descended upon us." He laughed bitterly here. "One of the foul creatures' mounts eviscerated Halnir with one swipe of its claws. And I saw Faramir's courageous facade dissolve in that one second. As he turned to face the Witch-King, I think that he had decided that perhaps he could buy the lives of the rest of us with his death." Anborn turned his head toward me, and his eyes found mine. "I know that he would have died for us then if it had not been for the Southron arrow that felled him." His eyes clouded once more, and tears sprang there. His voice was a mere whisper. "When he fell from his saddle, I knew it was finished, for it was his mere presence that had kept us alive."  
  
Anborn took a deep breath and turned back to the river. He continued, with a much stronger voice, "Luckily, Prince Imrahil and his troops arrived then, and the prince himself carried our captain from the battlefield." He sighed and lowered his eyes to the ground. "I thought him dead then, my lady."  
  
He shifted his weight and turned to me. "Forgive me my lengthy speech, Lady Éowyn."  
  
"There is naught to forgive, Lieutenant."  
  
His face colored, and he would not meet my gaze. "Forgive me my hasty decision about his fate, my lady. It is only that I cannot see how he could possibly tempt fate a second time and emerge victorious yet again, though I would trade myself for him if that were possible."  
  
"As would I, Anborn," I murmured. "After everything he has suffered, he deserves to be honored and revered, and above all, he deserves to be at peace." I placed my hand on his shoulder. "I believe that he yet lives, Anborn. I shall believe in it enough for the both of us."  
  
He smiled a little then and thanked me before I withdrew my hand, and we went back to where Lieutenant Odrastor and Captain Meneldil stood, still speaking urgently about the Southrons. But the captain turned his attention to me as soon as I arrived.  
  
"My lady, forgive me. I had no idea what had befallen your husband."  
  
"Nay, Captain, forgive my outburst." I changed the subject. "I would see the king if it is possible. Might I have the loan of three horses to bear me and my remaining guards to Minas Tirith?"  
  
"Of course, Lady Éowyn." He called to his aide, and the man found us mounts, and so Einarfin, Beregond and I rode to Minas Tirith as fast as the horses would run.  
  
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"Éowyn, I am so glad to see you well." Aragorn clasped my arms and kissed me on each cheek, though he had seemed quite surprised at my disheveled appearance. "When I received word of your husband's wounding at Huadh in Gwanur, I was greatly alarmed. Where is the Steward, my lady?"  
  
He had received me in his private office as soon as he heard that I had arrived in Minas Tirith and offered me a seat across from his chair behind his desk.  
  
"My Lord King," I began, and the friendly glimmer in his eye faded, for whenever I addressed him as such, he knew that matters were very serious. "My Lord King, the Steward of Gondor is missing. The outpost at the River Poros was ambushed by at least a hundred Haradrim, who set fire to the buildings and then proceeded to kill anyone who was in their way. Unhappily, I was forced to flee along with the only seven men who yet remain alive. I left my husband there, and the last time that I saw him, he was in close combat with the Southrons."  
  
Aragorn's expression was pained. "My lady, I give you my sorrow at your ill news. My army departs at noon today, one thousand men strong, but it seems we depart too late to save Gondor's greatest treasure."  
  
"Aragorn, I do not believe that he is dead. I ask you to respect that until we know for certain aught else."  
  
He nodded. "Of course. Will you ride with us, Éowyn?"  
  
I was sorely tempted, but I said, "Nay, Aragorn, for my lord sent me from him, as he was worried for my safety, and I would not defy him on this matter, though I wish that I could."  
  
His brow furrowed a moment before he said, "I shall bring him back to you myself." The words 'dead or alive' hung in the air between us, though they had not been said aloud. I nodded my thanks to him.  
  
Aragorn was too much of a gentleman to mention how appalling that I knew I must look, but he took my hand and bade me to follow him. We walked slowly through the corridors of the Citadel until we reached the door that led to where his private quarters began. "Please, Éowyn, go to Arwen. She has missed you much in the months since you have last graced the White City, and I hope that you might take some comfort from her presence as well as provide some comfort for her while I am gone from Minas Tirith and her side."  
  
I bowed before the king and said, "Farewell, King Elessar. I wish you great haste to the River Poros, as well as success when you at last battle the Haradrim."  
  
"Farewell, Lady Éowyn. I shall send word to you of your husband as soon as I am able." He kissed each of my cheeks one last time and then strode away in the direction from which we had come. I turned and entered the royal apartments and greeted my friend, the queen.  
  
Arwen sat upon a settee near the windows which overlooked the Pelennor, but she rose as I entered, her fair face etched with concern for me. Even as she requested refreshment to be brought, she settled me next to her on her bench and bade me to tell her all of what I had seen.  
  
I did, even going so far as to tell her of Faramir's strange dreams when he was upon the Huadh in Gwanur. She smiled at that and quietly congratulated me, though I told her that I felt not like celebrating when the fate of my husband remained unknown. And so I continued my story to the very end, adding that I felt guilt about his wounding and now over his disappearance as well. The food and drink arrived, and the queen informally poured us both some tea. She sat silently and considered what I had said for a bit, as is oft her wont, before she finally said, "Long have the Haradrim sought to destroy the people of Gondor. It seems not enough for them to remain in their own lands to the south. Never shall they be satisfied with that, for they are a warlike people and seek battle where they will. And yet, if their forces that you have described were so few, perhaps their strength wanes, and they shall be turned back easily."  
  
"Perhaps, Arwen, though not soon enough for my liking. I worry constantly for Faramir and wonder if he lies somewhere grievously wounded and unable to follow me to Minas Tirith, for he said he would follow, and I believed him."  
  
Arwen stroked my cheek once. "If he is able, I know that he shall, Éowyn. Fret not the events that cannot be undone. You went to him because of your love for him, and you could not know what might befall him after that. But Éowyn, he defended you and the life of your unborn son, perhaps unto death, because of his love for you. If the worst should come true, someday you may find that your knowledge of that shall bring you some comfort."  
  
I nodded, taking comfort from her words. "Now," she continued, passing a plate of honey cakes to me, "you must eat. You are looking thin, and you must think of the child within you, who, I know, demands nourishment." Her words were so like Faramir's before we were parted, and though I had remained strong among the men, I now wept, and the queen drew me close within her arms, and she said naught else.  
  
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I found it most unsettling that my right hand would not stop shaking. The cool mud had felt refreshing against my fevered skin as I had dragged myself from the edge of the river and lain for perhaps two days time in the underbrush of a small thicket that the Poros had deposited me near. It is impossible to know for certain how long I remained there since I was barely conscious for most of that time. But I had finally miraculously become alert enough to know that I was thirsty, and my health was desperately in need of attention. I knew that my body would yet be floating downstream had I not hit that cluster of barely submerged rocks, but unhappily I had come away with a badly broken left arm, which hung limply, though painfully, at my side, and a lump on my head that caused me dizziness and nausea when I sat up. Though the sunlight greatly troubled my eyes, I crawled out of the bushes and tried to determine where I might be.  
  
I found that the river was at my back, and judging from the direction of the flow, I knew that I was in South Gondor, obviously somewhere downstream from the Fords of Poros. The river was quite wide here, and the current did not appear to be very swift. I would have attempted to swim across had it not been for my poor physical condition, but I thought it quite unlikely that I should emerge from the other edge of the water yet alive.  
  
My head ached abominably, and it was all I could do not to lie back down and give up. But I thought of Éowyn and the precious life she held within her, and I knew that I must live for them. So I crawled back to the edge of the water and drank. Though it was muddy, the water was cool and passably refreshing. I bathed my head and face as well, hoping to ease the ache somewhat, though it was debatable how successful that truly was.  
  
I was quite uneasy being in this unfamiliar land without any weapon, save my dagger which had fortunately stayed in its sheath as I had been buffeted against the rocks in the river. I knew the only way that I could possibly reach a suitable place to cross the Poros without being seen by an enemy was to travel only by night. And yet, I worried that if I were to slip back into unconsciousness during the course of the day, I might never wake again. And so I lingered at the edge of the river, drinking water when my roiling stomach would allow it, keeping watch for anyone, and probing my broken body with my shaking fingers, hoping to be somewhat fit for travel by nightfall.  
  
Sometime just before dark, I woke from a doze that I had not realized had overtaken me. I took one last long swallow of water from the river and then worked my way to my feet, falling into the mud only twice before I was steady enough to take a few wobbly steps along the bank. But I was unable to stagger very far before I found myself again on my knees retching feebly onto the mud.  
  
I found this method of travel most unacceptable, but I could not do any better, and so I satisfied myself with simply reaching the next sizeable stand of trees, where I was lucky to catch scent of a patch of meadwort, which I had long used as a painkiller when in the field. With my dagger, I clumsily cut off a leaf and began to chew it, in hopes that I might soon reap some of the painkilling benefits from it, despite the fact that I had no means of brewing it into a proper tea.  
  
Though I had barely moved a hundred feet from my original position, I was exhausted more than I realized, and sleep took me without my knowledge. But I woke again around midday of the morrow, and once again slipped down to the river to drink and to scout my position. But I had barely emerged from the trees when I heard whistling, not of a bird, but of a person. Glancing upstream, I saw a young man, perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age, who was fishing from the bank. Quietly I slipped back into the shadows and stooped, waiting to see where he would go when he was finished there.  
  
I did not wait long before he caught a rather small fish and pulled it onto the bank before removing the hook from it and tossing it into his creel. He seemed to be satisfied with his catch, and so he stood with his belongings and made his way along a well-worn path through the brush and tall grass that carried him southward away from the river. Deciding perhaps he could lead me to a horse and provisions, I followed him as best as I could, staying as low as possible, not yet wishing to be seen by anyone.  
  
Soon he was out of my sight, though his trail was plain enough. I staggered over two more hills before I finally sighted a weathered wooden hovel set at the edge of a thick wood. I would have thought it abandoned, had it not been for the smoke drifting from the stone chimney. I was disheartened to see that the inhabitants did not appear to own a horse, as there was no outbuilding to keep one in. But there was naught else that I could do as I was much too weak to get far on my own. I called out to whomever was inside and waited patiently for someone to show themselves.  
  
The creaky wooden door opened a little and I knew someone was studying me from the dark interior. I held my right hand before me to show that I came not intending any harm, and I said as much. After a minute or so, a small woman with unbound dark hair opened the door enough to reveal herself, and she stepped outside, two young girls hanging onto her skirts. The boy I had followed home stepped from behind her, brandishing a pitchfork.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked, her tone unfriendly.  
  
"Madam, I am badly in need of aid. I was injured when I fell into the river. Will you help me?" I held my breath, hoping she was not as inhospitable as she seemed. She signaled to the boy, and the pitchfork was lowered as she came closer to me, her small children waiting at the door for her.  
  
"Did you say you fell into the river?" I nodded as she eyed my ruined clothing. "How does a ranger from Gondor simply fall into the River Poros?"  
  
"Please, madam, might I have only a bite of food? I cannot pay you, for I lost everything to the river, but perhaps I could do some work around your home to earn my keep?"  
  
The woman laughed somewhat unkindly as she circled me, looking me up and down. "I do not think you shall be doing any work with that arm of yours anytime soon." I suffered her to touch me as she pulled back my cloak revealing the dagger at my waist. "Where is your sword, ranger?"  
  
"As I said before, I lost everything." She dropped the edge of my cloak and stood before me, her eyes fixed unwaveringly upon my face, and finally her expression softened. Without looking away from me, she bade her son to bring a chair. I watched him disappear into the house and only seconds later he reappeared carrying a rickety wooden chair. He placed it on the ground next to his mother and she invited me to sit.  
  
I sank gratefully into the chair with a murmur of thanks, wondering what she found so beguiling about my face.  
  
"Sir Ranger," she said, as if she was reading my thoughts, "please forgive me my rudeness. It has been long since I have rested my eyes upon a warrior, since my husband left before the War."  
  
"Mother,"began the boy, but she hushed him with a wave of her hand.  
  
She had revealed to me that she was alone here with her children, but whether a calculated risk or an accidental admission, I could not say. I nodded dumbly.  
  
"Madach, take Isilma and Erendia inside and bring a bowl of soup for the ranger."  
  
Madach remained silent but sent me a look that might have killed me if such a thing had been possible, though he obeyed his mother. The soup arrived in due time, and the woman presented it to me, asking forgiveness for the thinness of the liquid. Though the fare was indeed meager, it was delicious, and it was difficult not to gulp it down all at once. Though I did spill a little because of my damnably shaking hand, I retained my propriety and sipped at it, complimenting the woman's ability to cook. She thanked me and remained standing before me, watching me eat. I grew uncomfortable under her gaze.  
  
"Madam, will you and your son not join me?"  
  
She looked at the ground, seemingly uncomfortable as well. "Nay, Sir Ranger, I must save the rest for my daughters."  
  
I was dismayed that I had eaten their dinner and said as much. The woman waved off my apology and knelt next to me, gently folding my cloak back from my left shoulder to look at my broken arm. She noticed the bloodstains and that the lacing on my left side was missing as well.  
  
"Would you allow me to see to your wounds, Sir Ranger?"  
  
"I would indeed, madam, though I reckon your son thinks it a disagreeable idea." I asked the boy, "Is there aught that I might do to ease your fears, Master Madach?"  
  
He seemed surprised that I had addressed him at all, not to mention that I had actually called him by his given name. He remembered himself quickly and resumed his defiant glare before he shrugged by way of an answer.  
  
"Madach, do not be rude!" his mother scolded.  
  
"Nay, madam, he is only worried for his family, no less than I would be if I were in his situation, faced with a strange man armed with a dagger." Clumsily, I unbuckled my sword belt and offered it, and the dagger attached to it, to the boy. "Here, take this, then you shall know that I cannot harm your mother while she tends me." His eyes lit in surprise, and he came forward slowly, taking the offering with a bow before he retreated a few feet from me and examined the dagger, pulling it from its sheath and checking its sharpness and shine in the afternoon sunlight as his mother took me by my right arm and slowly led me into their humble dwelling.  
  
The hovel was dark but comfortable and warm. The woman offered me a seat at her table in front of the fire and set before me a bowl of water to wash in and a cloth. As she stepped away a moment, I awkwardly wet the cloth and began to wipe my face, and then I held the coolness against the lump upon my head, for it felt good.  
  
Madach came into the house, bringing the chair back, and sat upon it in the corner, watching me warily, as he clutched my own knife in his hand. His two sisters rushed to his side, and they sat on the dirt floor next to his feet and watched me with wide-eyed stares. Their mother returned with some tea, and asked me if I would care to drink it.  
  
"I defer to your will, madam," I murmured as she set the cup on the table before me.  
  
"Please, my name is Almaria, Sir Ranger." She took the cloth from my trembling fingers and began to gently bathe my head wound.  
  
"My name is Faramir, Almaria." My name seemed insignificant to her as she continued her work. "Can you tell me how far below the Crossing of Poros we are here?"  
  
"Perhaps five or six leagues from there, Faramir."  
  
I was shocked that the river had carried me such a distance, but said naught of it. Carefully, I lifted the tea to my lips and sipped it. It was willow bark, and bitter as sin, but I was not about to ask for honey to make it palatable. "I need to return to Ithilien as soon as I might."  
  
"Of course."  
  
She knelt on my left side and asked Madach to bring the dagger to her. He obeyed, and she began to carefully cut open the stitching on the sleeve of my surcoat, thoughtfully attempting to preserve the garment, though I wondered if she had any thread to sew it up again. Mardach came around to my right side and removed my cuirass as his mother worked.  
  
It was not long before I could feel the pain lessening somewhat as the tea began to do its work. But I began to feel dizzy and lightheaded as well, and then my vision began to darken. I meant to warn Almaria that I was about to fall from the chair, but the words that I spoke were slurred too much to be understood. When I worriedly glanced up at her face in the dimness, I realized that there must have been something more than just willow bark in that tea, for she was smiling down at me, but the last words that I heard her utter were something to the effect of how trusting that Men of Gondor are inclined to be. 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter has been GREATLY revised on Apr 19, 2004. Please re-read it if you have read it before, and forgive my fickle writing.  
  
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At some point during the morning, Arwen had ordered a bath drawn for me, and her handmaidens had helped me to scrub the grime from my face and body. The heat from it had relaxed me, and I must have fallen asleep there, because I awoke lying in the king and queen's bed, at first imagining that it was mine and Faramir's. With a sigh, I rose, finding myself dressed in a white, silken nightgown. There were a matching robe and slippers laid out for me as well, so I donned them and left the bedchamber in search of the queen.  
  
One of the maids met me in the corridor and explained that Arwen had left the apartments for a short while in order to see the king off to the River Poros. She invited me to wait in the queen's sitting room, and I nodded my thanks and went there.  
  
Stepping out onto a small balcony, I looked out over the Pelennor, seeing the army begin to emerge from the front gate, the king's banner fluttering in the breeze at the head of the column. I knew that Aragorn was at the head of that column, no better tracker, save for the Elves, in the realm. If Faramir was to be found, Aragorn was the man who could do it. I shivered suddenly and turned away from the sight, hugging myself tightly as I returned inside.  
  
It was not long before Arwen returned, her fathomless blue eyes filled with compassion. "Éowyn," she smiled softly, "I thought you might sleep a while longer."  
  
"I find sleep is something that I have been doing rather well without these past few days. Finally I can understand how my husband does it." I smiled despite myself.  
  
"Is there aught more that I can do for you, friend?"  
  
"Nay, Arwen, save for praying for Faramir's safe return." I turned back to the view of the Fields. The queen drew herself beside me, and together we watched the mounted soldiers stream from the city.  
  
"I do that already with every breath, Éowyn," she finally murmured, taking my cold hand in her warm one. "Remain strong, my lady."  
  
I nodded, and indicated that I was ready to depart her chambers for those of the steward. She nodded in understanding and summoned a maid to help me dress in one of the queen's own gowns. I thanked her and followed the woman to the dressing room. I was offered a choice between a pale green, velvet frock and a rose-colored, silken affair, but I did not much care which I wore, so the maid chose for me, and I left the apartments dressed in green, my hair hanging as usual in a simple braid down the middle of my back.  
  
I departed the Citadel and went to the shuttered Steward's house. There were no guards posted at the entrance because we were not officially in residence, and I slipped undetected into the darkened interior, closing the huge door softly behind me. Without pause I went straight to Faramir's study and sank into the leather chair behind the desk. As always, his study was cluttered with books and parchments of indeterminable age, scattered throughout the room in small piles. I loved this room, because it was wholly his, and when first we were married, I would oft come here while Faramir was in council, and sit, letting the scent of the room wash over me, a scent that is thoroughly his, a mixture of old books, leather, ink, brandy and that wood-scented soap that he loves so much. It was almost as if he sat here with me in the darkness.  
  
I slept in his chair that night. The next morning, I sent word to Emyn Arnen, commanding that all but a token guard remain at the house there, for I did not want any of our servants to be trapped if the Haradrim's forces should reach that far north. And then I went to the Houses of Healing to visit Damrod.  
  
He lay in his bed, pale and still, Mablung sleeping in the chair beside him. I placed my hand upon Mablung's shoulder, waking him from his doze. He smiled up at me and started to stand, intending to give me the chair, but I pushed him back down.  
  
"How fares he?" I whispered.  
  
"I am told he will live, my lady, though it will be long before he draws his bow." I nodded, relieved. "How fare you, Lady Éowyn?"  
  
"I am well, Mablung. I spoke with the king yesterday before he and his army departed for the River Poros." I chuckled mirthlessly. "He asked if I would accompany him."  
  
"I am surprised that you did not." But he said naught else.  
  
I shrugged. "I have had enough of battle to last me yet a little while. I fear I would be of little use to them since I think my worry for Faramir should impede my good judgment." I changed the subject. "If either you or Anborn requires somewhere to stay while you are here in the city, I have more than enough room in the Steward's house. For now, it is only Beregond, Einarfin and I there."  
  
He bowed his head to me. "Thank you, my lady, but Anborn went with the king yesterday, and I spoke with the quartermaster and he will allow me to stay with Damrod until he is able to rise on his own."  
  
I nodded. "The offer remains, should you change your mind." I bid him farewell and returned to the empty Steward's house to pray for my husband.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was quiet and dark, and above all it was cold. It was my shivering that had awakened me.  
  
I could feel that I was propped up in a comfortable bed, and I knew from the weight of the covers over me that they were furs instead of blankets. They were soft against my bare chest, and I sighed softly as I relaxed into them. A cool hand rested briefly against my brow, and then I heard voices quietly speaking, though the words meant nothing to me. The furs were pulled back, and hands skimmed over my broken arm, which now was bound across my body, the bones obviously having been set while I was unconscious.  
  
"Faramir?" The voice was calling my name, but despite my shivering, I was content to rest here. I did not respond to her. With another sigh, I slept.  
  
Children's voices wakened me next. I slowly opened my eyes and observed that the door of the humble abode was standing wide open, bright sunlight streaming in across the dirt floor, a fresh breeze airing out the musty house. Obviously Almaria's two daughters were outside playing a game, and in their exuberance had forgotten to keep quiet.  
  
They grew hush when their mother scolded them, and then she appeared in the doorway with a cup in her hand and walked to my bedside, a calculating expression upon her face. Somewhat alarmed as the previous events returned to my bedimmed consciousness, I attempted to sit up, but found that I could not, as my feet were bound to the footboard and my good arm was bound with bandages to the broken one across my chest. Wary, I waited for her to speak.  
  
"Would you like more tea?" she asked me pleasantly.  
  
"Nay, lady, I think I have had quite enough of your tea," I replied hoarsely, but emphatically.  
  
Her smile faded. Setting the cup aside, she rested her hand on my cheek. "Your fever is down somewhat. How do you feel?"  
  
Though I was confused by her, I felt quite unwell and told her so.  
  
She nodded. "You have thrashed in fever for nigh three days, and I wondered if you should even live."  
  
"You drugged me." Her face flushed somewhat at the accusation before she crossed the room and fetched some water, bringing it back to me. She began to lift it to my lips, but I said, "I will not drink that, Almaria."  
  
"I did indeed add a little something extra to the willow bark tea, but it was more for my daughters' sakes than for yours. I did not want them to have to endure your screams as I arranged the bones in your arm into a more comfortable position. They have seen much too much pain in their short lives, and if I can spare them any more, I will." She sipped the water herself as if to prove that it was safe before she offered it again to me. My thirst needed refreshing, so reluctantly, I drank deeply, letting the cool liquid slip down my throat.  
  
"If that is the case, then why am I bound?" I asked as I finished the water. I eyed her for a moment. She looked regretful, but then she shrugged, and her fingers briefly brushed over the Ring of the Steward upon my right hand.  
  
"There are things that you have not told me, Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor." She said my name and title with such abject deliberateness that I realized that she now might pose a greater threat to me than even the River Poros had. "I assume you know what the Haradrim would give for such a prize as you, and I intend to use the reward to get my family out of this worthless hovel." She turned from me, looking through the doorway to where her girls were playing. "Men!" she lamented. "They go afield and leave the women to do the real work. And what are we to do when they do not return?" She wheeled around to face me again, and I nearly flinched at the fury in her eyes. "We keep working and hope for the best." Her eyes narrowed. "It is most fortunate that you arrived when you did, Lord Steward, most especially in your pitiful condition." She chuckled mirthlessly. "You Gondorian men are all the same. You see a pretty face, and the trust lights up your grey eyes. Your foolishness is laughable."  
  
At this point, I was inclined to agree, though I said naught. The light in the room dimmed somewhat, and I glanced at the doorway, seeing the two girls staring at me with wide eyes. I glanced at them briefly before my gaze moved back to Almaria's face. "Think of your children, madam. Do you think it is appropriate for them to see you holding me as a captive?"  
  
She shooed her girls back outside before turning back to me. "They are innocent and know nothing about that. You should be improved enough to be moved from here in a day or so."  
  
"Whatever you think that the Haradrim might offer you, I am certain that I could offer you more. After all, I am the Steward of Gondor, and I have much wealth at my disposal. If you would only free me, I should send payment to you for your help as soon as I reach the city."  
  
She glanced at my betrothal rings. "Your lady wife is fortunate that you were returned to her whole after the war. I have waited for two long years for my husband to return, though I do not think he comes anymore. But I thank the Valar every day that he left me with three strong, healthy children, though I fear that Madach will leave soon, perhaps also to join the army like his father did."  
  
"With any luck, he will not feel compelled to go," I murmured.  
  
"Perhaps, though everyone who lives between here and the River Harnen knows that war will continue in South Gondor until either Gondor or Harad decides to take the land for themselves and defend it properly against the other."  
  
I nodded. "Gondor is willing to do that, though I know not if she has the resources at this time. The king expresses an interest in repopulating this land, though."  
  
"Alas, I do not intend to wait to see who might win that war. We are starving here, and neither Gondor nor Harad seems to care." She leaned close to me, lowering her voice. "Fear not, Faramir. You shall not be killed. You shall be ransomed back to your people."  
  
"Do you really believe that, Almaria? More likely I shall be tortured until I have revealed all of King Elessar's state secrets, and then my throat shall be slit, my body left in some back alley in a city somewhere in Near Harad." She seemed to not hear me, and I raised my voice angrily. "Do you understand? I have a wife waiting for me at home and a babe on the way! Do you think it apt that they should suffer like you do because your husband did not return from the War?"  
  
She straightened and spoke as if I had spoke of naught. "Madach is fishing again, but when he returns, I shall make us some more soup from his catch."  
  
I growled in frustration, slamming my head back against the pillows, closing my eyes. My thoughts had turned to Éowyn, and I hoped desperately that she had fared well on the way to Minas Tirith. It had been near a week since we had parted, her eyes wide with fright for me as I had compelled her to run. It had crossed my mind as I battled with my sword against the Southrons that she might have thought to return and fight by my side, but she had not. I knew that her presence would have merely distracted me from my purpose anyway. But now, I wished for her presence, or any friendly presence for that matter, because I knew that if this irrational woman handed me over to the Haradrim, I should never see another friendly face in what little life I had left.  
  
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When Éowyn had come before me in my office, I was shocked to see how worn she had looked, though I said nothing to her, unwilling to risk her wrath. And when she told me that the Steward of Gondor had disappeared, I wholly understood her appearance. My heart fell at the telling of it, and later, when I heard the full story from my beloved's lips, I thought it unlikely that Faramir yet lived.  
  
But my wife had directed me to look into my own heart, and I found that there remained hope, though small, that he might have escaped death yet again. The man seems to lead a charmed life, and though ill things befall him oft times, the love and respect that people feel for him manage to carry him through.  
  
I had wondered at the Steward when he first came to me and proposed this short journey to the ranger outpost along the River Poros. Though he had framed his request in words that would make it appear that it was I who had originated the idea, I realized after our conversation that this was more of a challenge that he had issued to himself as he had not returned to the field since his retreat from Osgiliath. Never had I required it of him nor did I think he should go afield, for his work as the Steward of Gondor kept him occupied enough without my adding more to his agenda. But his argument was forceful though friendly, and so I allowed it, realizing that to keep a ranger locked within a city for too long is an ill thing. I asked him to observe the area near there for me as well, for I hoped that someday we might officially reclaim South Gondor as ours, and eventually repopulate it.  
  
And now, Faramir was gone, though he had first managed to see that his wife was returned safely among his own men. As my army plodded southward toward Pelargir, my military advisors spoke to me of approaching this uprising in a diplomatic manner. I found, though, that I did not feel politically inclined this day. Eventually, I sent them away from me, keeping only my guard around me as I brooded about what my ministers termed 'The Harad Situation'.  
  
It was plain that I had allowed this situation to ripen over the months since the end of the War, being more concerned with the inner workings of the White City, and the need to rebuild and rearm her as soon as possible. Parts of the outer kingdom had suffered neglect as a result. Even granting Faramir the title of Prince of Ithilien had not truly aided Gondor, for now the man's attention was stretched even thinner.  
  
And I wondered at Éowyn. When I asked if she would join me to rescue her husband, she told me that she was unwilling to disobey him, as he had sent her from him. This was not the usual way of things. Éowyn was Rohirrim and not wont to submit herself to the will of others, not even her husband. I realized that there was more to this than my eyes could yet see, though Arwen said naught about it. I was certain that their marriage was yet a happy one. At least I assumed that it was, since the steward fair glows when anyone even mentions his wife's name in passing. Perhaps she was wroth with him for some reason and just hiding it well.  
  
Two and a half days into our journey, we reached the port city of Pelargir, where I was received by the leaders of the city at the City Hall which overlooked the River Anduin, before spending the night in the Houses of Nobility, the bulk of my army camping just outside of the city walls on the east side of the city. I met briefly with the Steward of Pelargir, Holmar, who was a tall, austere man, as I was interested in his opinions of the Haradrim's latest exploits. He seemed unsurprised and yet unperturbed. I questioned him about his seeming heedlessness of a dangerous situation.  
  
He shrugged. "We had assumed that the king had the Southrons well in hand since the War. Though we have heard of skirmishes along the Poros, Harad has not recently sent troops to attack our fair city."  
  
"I like not your attitude, Lord Steward. Your city still belongs to Gondor, and as such, I expect to receive word from you of any trouble that befalls your troops inside or outside of Pelargir. I knew naught of these 'skirmishes' that you speak of, and so, I allowed the Steward of Gondor to travel to the Crossings of Poros, falsely thinking that he would be safe there. And now he has gone missing!"  
  
He grimaced at the intensity of my tone, but bowed to me nonetheless. I explained that I wished for a third of his mounted guard, nearly three- hundred strong, to ride out with my army on the morrow under any commander of his choosing. He paled a bit, but did not dare to argue with me, for which I was almost disappointed, and I turned quickly and stalked to the Houses of Nobility, as angry as I can ever remember being in all of my eighty-nine years.  
  
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In the dark that night, I felt someone silently approach my bedside, and briefly I wondered if Almaria had decided perhaps to slit my throat herself. But it was Madach who had drawn near, and he signaled for me to remain quiet as he took my right hand in his and deftly removed the Ring of the Stewards from my finger.  
  
"What do you think you are doing?" I hissed at him, though I glanced toward where his mother lay, sleeping upon the floor. He scowled at me and again indicated that he wished me to remain quiet as he wrested the argent betrothal ring also from my right hand. The young villain was robbing me!  
  
As he reached for my golden ring, I tried to pull away from him. Surprisingly, he rested his hand lightly on the back of mine, and whispered one word to me.  
  
"Please."  
  
To this day, I do not know why, but I silently allowed him to slip my gold betrothal ring from my left hand, the one that Éowyn had designed, had commissioned to be created by a skilled craftsman, and had presented to me on our wedding day. He slid all three rings into his pocket and patted it as if showing me that he would keep them safe before he padded away to lie back down next to his sisters.  
  
I considered his actions for a short time, but I was feeling too wretched, and so I closed my eyes again and went back to sleep, wondering what the dawn might bring.  
  
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My household staff arrived from Emyn Arnen in the evening three days after the message had been sent to them. Smartly, they had traveled lightly, carrying only that which could not be replaced easily, and so there had been horses laden with books and some small mementos, and all others were ridden by our people. I was most happy to note that Simbelmynë and Windfola had somehow found their way home from the ranger outpost and were among the herd.  
  
I was most especially happy to see my maid Serni again, as she was often a great source of comfort to me in hard times. I hugged her when I saw her and even helped to unload some things from a few of the horses, before she drew me into Faramir's and my bedchamber where she had a bath being readied for me. I smiled at her thoughtfulness and sank into the steaming water, hoping that it might urge me into sleep.  
  
But I remained awake, though I was glad that Serni kept my mind occupied with her endless chatter as she turned down the covers on the bed and laid out my nightdress. As I emerged from the bath, the subject at last turned to Faramir, though she brought him up quite by accident and seemed most embarrassed by her lapse. I forgave her with a wave of my hand as she dried my body and helped me into my gown.  
  
"How have you been faring, my lady?" she asked, trying to judge my mood.  
  
"Not well, I am afraid. I have not been sleeping well of late."  
  
She nodded. "Well, I shall order up some tea from the kitchen, and we will relax you enough that you might sleep tonight, Lady Éowyn. Lay you down in yonder bed."  
  
But I turned my face away from her so that she could not see my expression, though my emotions were more than ably communicated by my voice when I said, "Serni, I think I should scream just from looking upon that empty bed once more. I most certainly cannot bear to lie in it."  
  
"But where have you been sleeping, my lady?"  
  
"I have been sleeping nowhere! I have been sitting nights in my lord's study, attempting to take comfort in being surrounded by his things, since he is so far away. It is all I can find to do with myself at night."  
  
Serni said, "Then perhaps you would take your tea in Lord Faramir's study?"  
  
I smiled a little. She always knew the best way to try to content me. I left the bedchamber, going downstairs to the study, where Serni brought me tea with honey the way Faramir takes it and honey cakes to nibble on, though I did not feel much hungry. She asked if I needed aught else, but I dismissed her, for I did not feel comfortable sharing this space with any but my husband.  
  
She nodded understandingly and left me alone with my memories. I took a sip of tea and picked up the small portrait of Finduilas that Faramir always keeps on his desk. She really had been quite beautiful, and I could see a lot of her youngest son in the features that stared at me from the ornate frame. And for a moment I mourned her, though I had never known her, because I thought it might have been nice to get to know her, someone who could tell me secrets from when my husband was a boy. But there was no one left in this city to talk to about those things. I was alone here.  
  
Unable to bear it any longer, I picked up a quill and composed a brief letter to my husband's family in Dol Amroth, begging them to come with all haste. I hoped that Faramir's Uncle Imrahil would be able to offer comfort, and I knew that his family deserved to know what had befallen Faramir.  
  
Uncle Imrahil,  
  
I hope this letter finds you all well in Dol Amroth. Sadly,  
that is not the case with your nephew. He took what should have been  
a routine journey south to the River Poros, and after being attacked  
by Haradrim troops, he has disappeared.  
  
My wish is that you and your family might be able to come to me  
here in Minas Tirith while I await his return. If you are unable to  
come because of duty or aught else, please send word as soon as  
possible.  
  
I hope our family might grow closer during this difficult time.  
  
Éowyn  
  
I hopd that Faramir's uncle did not mind the forthright way that I wrote the bad news, and I prayed that he would journey to the White City with all haste, though I knew the distance was not a short one, easily a two-week-long ride at a leisurely pace. Perhaps, with good luck, Faramir would be here waiting for his family when they arrived. I certainly hoped so. 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Please, if you have been reading this story, go back and reread chapter 7. I rewrote a good bit of it on April 19 at my beta-reader's insistence. I hope you still like it. Also, please forgive the slow update. My computer has taken to eating certain programs for fun. *sigh*  
  
Thanks for all of the great reviews!!!!  
  
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In a gentle rain, we continued on to the Crossings of Poros at dawn the next morning, the Lord Steward of Pelargir seeing us off at the gate, and more important, his three hundred mounted guards, with a solemn bow. I thanked him politely for his hospitality before we departed, and he morosely acknowledged my words with a nod of his head.  
  
The Haradrim were chief in my thoughts as we drew closer to our destination, as was the Steward of Gondor. My advisors, most especially General Solasgil, were still urging caution, and I intended to be cautious, so long as it would preserve the lives of my men, but I sought no fate so noble for our foe, as I recalled Éowyn's careworn face as she explained what had befallen the doomed outpost. I decided that I would keep the main force of my army together, only bothering to send a small advance party of rangers, so that Gondor might show the Southrons our full might and so put some dread into their evil hearts.  
  
But what was left of the outpost was abandoned, the dead strewn about the camp, forgotten. I assigned some men to see to our fallen and some others to burn Harad's dead. Grimly, I examined our fallen men. Their bodies, lying amongst the ashes of the buildings, were riddled with arrows. Faramir was not among them.  
  
There was little sign left of the Southrons who had chased Éowyn and the rangers north, the rain quickly obliterating most of the tracks. But it did not appear that the Southron army had yet returned to this place, so I commanded the General to take half of our force northward upon the Harad road, hoping to trap the lesser force between ours and the rangers posted in Osgiliath. Of the remaining six hundred or so, I had half fan out looking for stragglers hidden nearby among the newly-leafed trees, and the other half worked to set up our camp, while I and five of my adjutants crossed the River Poros into South Gondor.  
  
"My lord king, perhaps Lord Faramir was taken captive by the Haradrim," said Colonel Vëantor, the second highest ranking of the advisors who had attended me.  
  
"Perhaps." But I would not venture a guess until I had more concrete evidence of his fate.  
  
Despite the rain, it was plain that no army had moved south from here, so we veered from the road, and I dismounted to search for tracks in the mud, but I found no sign of the Steward. We searched the south side of the river for nigh two hours, looking for any trace of Faramir's passing, before we were forced to return to the north bank at sundown, the remaining light too sparse to attempt any more tracking that day.  
  
Our camp had been arranged a few hundred paces north of the ruined outpost, and after leaving my horse with the stable master, I silently stalked toward my pavilion. Yet I was surrounded by my ministers, all vying to speak to me. With a raised hand I silenced them all.  
  
"Have you found any evidence of Lord Faramir's whereabouts?" I asked them. All answered in the negative. "Then your words will keep until later." I entered my pavilion to await word from General Solasgil's force before the end of the night. I disrobed and dried myself before donning my ranger's garb, readying myself for the morrow, as I settled down to smoke for a bit, thinking on 'The Haradrim Situation'.  
  
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When I awakened in the morning, I found myself alone. The door of the house was wide open as usual, though the light was rather dim, since it was raining. For a moment, I only wished for some water, as my throat was very dry, and then I remembered Madach coming to me yestereve, taking my most prized possessions from me with only one quiet word upon his lips. I knew that I needed to hasten from this place if I could while I was unattended before something worse befell me.  
  
Gingerly, I sat up, noting that my left side felt oddly tight, and there was a throbbing there that I had not felt since I had received the arrow wound. I set my concern aside for later, and with difficulty, I gingerly pulled myself to the end of the bed with my legs. It took precious moments for me to angle myself so I could reach the bonds around my left ankle with my right hand, but the linen was drawn tight, and disentangling the knots proved futile with but one hand to work with and my sight impeded by the furs that still covered the lower half of my body.  
  
I had not even begun to loosen the knots when I heard voices outside. I froze, listening intently, recognizing Almaria's voice, though the language she was speaking was Haradaic, an adult male answering her with short answers in the same tongue. Their voices grew louder as they approached, and I set my countenance into an expression of disdainful indifference, the face that my father had oft used when he spoke to me.  
  
Madach entered the hovel first, his face strangely blank, his eyes upon the floor as he moved to the fire to warm himself. Following him was a tall, tanned Haradrim warrior with dark eyes that bored into mine as he approached the bedside. Behind him was Almaria, trailed by her daughters, and she was yet speaking rapidly to the man, who was nodding occasionally.  
  
He rapidly snaked his hand out and seized my hair, jerking my head back so that he might see my face more clearly. I stared at him unflinchingly before he released me and then threw the furs aside, examining my hands, obviously expecting to see the Ring of the Stewards there.  
  
He grunted and said something to Almaria in his guttural tongue before he grasped my bound arms and yanked them up so he might see my hands better. White-hot pain screamed through the entire left side of my body, and I nearly fainted as I bit back the agony without a sound.  
  
Almaria ran to the bedside, also looking for my ring. "Where are your rings, Faramir?" she wailed, but I had decided that I would not say another word to her, and so I remained silent. The Southron drew his dagger and cut all of my bonds, before he roughly dragged me from the bed by my right arm. Though I was weak, I did not fall, and I simply stood near the doorway, shivering in my linen small clothes.  
  
The Southron barked something at Almaria, and she shook her head, vehemently denying something, before he pulled out his purse and offered her a gold coin. She seemed reluctant to accept it, most likely hoping for more, but after he pushed it at her, speaking the same words again and again, she seized it from his hand and wrapped her fingers about it tightly.  
  
"Madach, fetch Faramir's clothes," she said, and the boy complied without a word, retrieving all of my belongings from a trunk near the fireplace, save my dagger, sword belt and rings. He put them in a pile upon the floor next to me. Surprisingly, Madach spoke quietly to me.  
  
"I mended your surcoat as well as I could, Faramir." While his back was to the others, he patted the same pocket where he had placed my rings the night before. "I also replaced the missing lacing with some extra that we yet had from when Da lived with us." I nodded my thanks to him, letting my expression soften somewhat. "Thank you for the dagger," he murmured before his mother spoke.  
  
"Get dressed, Lord Steward. Hiryaher needs to return to his men quickly."  
  
Awkwardly I picked up my surcoat with my quivering fingers, shaking it out before I slung it around my shoulders and attempted to slip my good arm into the sleeve. Madach moved behind me and helped me with it, and then he aided me with the rest of my clothing as well. When I began to don my boots, the Southron came to me and snatched them away, saying something to Almaria.  
  
"He says that you will not need boots. He does not want you to wear them, so that he should not have to worry about chasing you very far," she interpreted for me. I narrowed my eyes at the Southron, and he sneered back for a moment only, before he backhanded my face hard enough to send me sprawling through the doorway and onto the wet grass. My arm and side both throbbing, I regained my feet somewhat slower than I would have liked, though I resumed my contemptuous expression quickly enough.  
  
And the Southron laughed in return before he threw my boots to Madach, saying something to the boy that caused him to nod. The warrior moved within a foot of my face and stared at me with brown eyes, before he said in heavily-accented Westron, "You are foolish to think that you should live long if you defy me. This woman," he added, indicating Almaria with a movement of his head, "thinks you are important somehow, but I do not see it. To me, you look sick and weak and broken."  
  
He seemed to think it was news to me, but I merely glared at him and said naught. I looked over his shoulder a moment and saw Almaria returning to her hovel, shooing her younger children in before her, my fate all but forgotten, though her son stayed outside and watched the Southron and me, while fingering my dagger hilt, the belt where it was sheathed now buckled about his waist.  
  
Hiryaher took a step backward before he cruelly smiled and punched me in my broken arm. I could not help it; I fell to my knees with a groan, and then the man's sword point was at my throat, and I wondered why he had bothered to pay Almaria a gold coin for a man that he was planning to kill anyway. I looked down at the blade, barely daring to breathe, and noted how dirty and rusted that it was. I was dismayed when I realized that it was not dirt upon the blade, but poison.  
  
My eyes flicked back to his face, and he smiled, relishing the fact that I knew that he held my death in his hands, and he could offer me a quick, painless one, or a slow, lingering one. With a lightning-fast flick of his wrist, he chose the latter. I felt the tip of the blade nick the soft flesh of my throat, the thin trail of warm blood trickling forth, and then the slow burn of the poison as it entered my body in the tiniest quantity.  
  
"Rise!" he commanded me while sheathing his sword. I sighed and hung my head, gathering my strength, defying him, when I heard the strangest sound from the Southron, almost a choking noise. I looked up at him just in time to see his eyes glaze over as his body slid lifelessly to the ground, revealing Madach standing behind him, my bloody dagger still clutched in his fingers.  
  
I struggled back to my feet and lurched toward the boy, who stood in shock, blood staining his tattered clothing. "I did not mean to kill him," he muttered, his eyes wide in shock and fear. Gently I took the weapon from him, wiping it on the Southron's clothing before I resheathed it upon the belt Madach wore. "He was going to kill you, Faramir."  
  
"Madach, you did the right thing," I said quietly while wishing silently that the boy had been two minutes faster. "Tell me, how many Haradrim were with this man?"  
  
"Three," he said absently.  
  
I grasped the boy's shoulder with my good hand. "Madach, it shall not be long before his fellows come looking for him. You must hide the body quickly."  
  
He seemed to awaken from his daze then, and he grabbed the dead man's wrists and pulled him into the tallest grass to the east of the house while I clumsily pulled on my boots and watched for signs of trouble from the direction of the river and also from the direction of the hovel. Thank the Valar that no one came as Madach relieved the dead man of his sword belt and the remaining coins from his purse.  
  
He quickly returned to my side with his new treasures. Immediately I removed the sword from its sheath, studying the curved blade and the poison upon it. Madach buckled the sword belt around my waist, and I thanked him before I resheathed the weapon and then asked the boy for my rings.  
  
"I would yet hold them for you, Faramir, for I am coming with you."  
  
"Nay, Madach," I argued. "It is unsafe for you. You should stay here with your mother."  
  
"It is unsafe for you as well," he said defiantly. "And I will not stay here with Mother. She no longer needs me anyway, and you do."  
  
Though there were myriad arguments that I could have used to discourage him, I did not have the time or energy to debate him, and so I began to walk east, knowing that it was probably too dangerous near the river until the Haradrim patrol had departed from the area. Madach followed me for a while, saying nothing. But when my steps began to falter, he fell into step beside me, and soon I was leaning upon him for support as we wended our way through the wet fields of South Gondor.  
  
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There is only a certain amount of cleaning that one person can do at a time. I learned this when I decided to take on the task of cleaning and airing out the Steward's residence as a distraction from my troubles.  
  
The house had been closed up for nearly a year, and it was very dusty inside. Serni and I headed the group of servants who aided us, but I had kept some of the more arduous tasks for myself, such as uncovering and rearranging the furniture, so we might sweep under it all, and carrying the mattresses to the lawn to air them out. The physical labor was most welcome, and I felt better also knowing that I was making Faramir's house ready for him when he at last was returned to me.  
  
There were more than a few rooms in this residence that I did not care for. For example, the dining room was decorated all in dark blue. Even the large dining table was sheathed in dark blue fabric which hid the lovely wood from appreciative eyes. I decided a few changes were in order and hoped that Faramir would not mind that I had redecorated the house he had been raised in without his leave.  
  
Of course, I left his study untouched, except for opening the shutters to let some light shine into the chamber. His room should remain wholly his, and I would not deign to change anything about it, with or without his leave. But at nights, weary from exertion, I would yet sleep here, feeling his nearness despite the distance between us. I prayed that I would have some news of him soon.  
  
The queen had been visiting me oft in the afternoons, I think sensing that I required a pause during my exertions. Though Aragorn had been gone only for six days, Arwen seemed quite lonely and in need of a friend. I welcomed the times we spent together, feeling more at ease speaking with her about Faramir than anyone else I knew.  
  
"How fares your child, Éowyn?" she asked me one day. I placed my hand on my belly.  
  
"He is well, I believe, though I have no true sign of his coming yet."  
  
Arwen smiled. "You shall soon enough, I am certain." She sobered then. "Remember that I am here if you should require anything." I nodded, thinking that she was speaking only of the babe, but she added, "Have you put any thought into what you would do if Faramir should not return?"  
  
I was stunned by her question. "Nay, lady, for I have never thought that he should not. Have you given up hope as well?"  
  
The look in her blue eyes was a strange mixture of innocence and great wisdom as she looked deep into my grey ones. "Nay, Éowyn, for there is always hope. I only wish for you to think on all sides of the matter, not only the one that you wish to be the truth."  
  
I nodded, my weariness enabling me to not be wroth with her, though any other time I most probably would have been.  
  
"Arwen, what would you do if Aragorn had disappeared as Faramir has?"  
  
"I would do much as you have done, Éowyn. But your situation is different because you carry his child, and so you cannot aid in the search for him."  
  
Her words reminded me of how truly useless I felt. "But, Arwen, I think I shall go insane if I am forced to wait much longer."  
  
"It takes more strength to wait and hope than to be the one who does the searching. And you are one of the strongest people that I know."  
  
I blushed in embarrassment. "I am most impatient, though, no matter what strength I yet have."  
  
The queen smiled. "Oh yes, I am well aware of that as well, though patience is the most difficult virtue to attain if it does not come naturally. Even my father, with his many centuries of experience, has trouble finding it oft times." She patted my arm. "But a time for action shall eventually arrive, and you shall be ready for it when it does."  
  
I held out not much hope for myself if Lord Elrond could not be patient. I smiled then as well, and thanked the queen for cheering me during such a difficult time. And I truly hoped that if there was a time for action that I would be ready as she had said, if only for Faramir's sake.  
  
After so much exertion, though, I learned that I was not ready for any action when an unexpected wave of weakness washed over me, and I nearly fell from my chair insensible, Arwen calmly ordered me to bed and had me carried there by Einarfin. She summoned her own personal healer to my side, and after a thorough examination, he confirmed what my husband had known all along: I held the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor and the Princedom of Ithilien in my womb.  
  
He congratulated me, but I felt naught but fear, an unfamiliar sensation for me. The queen formally congratulated me as well, though she sensed my discomfort and sent the healer away.  
  
"My lady, what is it?" she asked me, sitting upon the edge of the bed and taking my hand in hers.  
  
"I am frightened," I whispered. "I know naught about babies. How am I to take care of him, if I do not know how?"  
  
"You shall have a nurse to help you, Éowyn. And many friends. And Faramir."  
  
It took me only a moment to realize that it was not the baby that frightened me so much as the fact that my faith in my husband was beginning to fail. And when I at last allowed the tears to fall after Arwen departed the chamber, I silently begged for Faramir to understand and to forgive me if he would.  
  
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"Is their aught I can do for you, Faramir?"  
  
I heard Madach's voice, though it seemed distant. I had sat down in the grass a short time before dusk, and he was allowing me to rest, but I think that as he listened to me desperately laboring to breathe between the long coughing spells that had begun only in the last hour or so, that he was beginning to realize that I had already arrived at the end of my strength.  
  
I nodded my head, hoping for some water, but certain that if I spoke, the coughing would begin again, and my side would be filled with agony again. He knelt beside me in the grass, obviously uncertain of what to do for me, though oddly enough, his presence calmed me greatly.  
  
"Water," I finally croaked, and he complied rapidly, holding the stream to my lips himself because I was much too unsteady. After I had drunk my fill, he sat and held my trembling hand, and I desperately tried to stay awake, unwilling to leave this boy alone here in the wild, with a chance that the Haradrim might find him and realize that he had been the one who had killed their comrade.  
  
But despite my exhaustion, sleep did not claim me anyway, for the pain that the poison caused was too great. When it became fully dark, and the rain had finally abated, I bade Madach to lay down and sleep if he could, falsely assuring him that I would be well enough by morning to move further.  
  
But when the first fingers of the dawn reached out from the western horizon, my condition was no better. I was in agonizing pain, and I thought then for the first time that I should never see Éowyn again and how wroth she would be with me when she learned that my last words to her had been lies. For Emyn Arnen was a longer journey than I should ever be able to make on foot in this poor condition, and even if the whole of the Gondorian army was to come to my aid, they knew not where I was, or indeed, if I was even alive. I wondered if the boy would go ahead for help, though there was a possibility that he might cross paths with the Haradrim again, and I was unwilling to sacrifice him for my sake. I allowed Madach to wake when he would, and it was not very long before his eyelids fluttered open, and he stretched before he sat up and inquired after me.  
  
I wondered how I would ever convince him to leave me behind. My silence alarmed him somewhat, and he again offered me the water. I gratefully drank it, and then I told him that he should go on by himself.  
  
He seemed shocked. "No, Faramir. I would not leave you behind because you did not leave me."  
  
"But, Madach, I cannot go any farther. My strength is spent. I shall only worsen, and soon I shall die."  
  
"No!" Tears sprang to his eyes as he grasped my hand tightly again. "You cannot. Do not leave me like Da did, please!"  
  
"Madach, will you not go ahead for help for me? If you hurry, I may yet live." I knew it was a terrible responsibility to thrust upon the boy, but I saw naught else for it. He eyed me sullenly for but a moment before he nodded in agreement. Between coughing fits, I told him which way he needed to go and explained how to reach Emyn Arnen from here. Most especially, I told him to be careful, not wanting him to be captured, or worse, by the Southrons.  
  
I was overcome by a particularly violent spasm, and I when it had finally passed, Madach was gone. With a groan, I laid down in the grass and awaited death.  
  
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The rain stopped in the middle of the night, and at first light, I departed my pavilion, intending to resume the search. On my way to retrieve my horse, a mounted messenger came at a gallop from the north, and I recognized him as one of Solasgil's men. He relayed to me that they had been successful in destroying a rather small Haradrim force without many casualties on our side, and that a few prisoners had been taken for questioning. The remainder of the army would most likely be back within a day. I thanked him with a nod and continued my walk. A pair of rangers appeared then, and I stopped to find out what they wanted.  
  
"My lord king," said the elder, a short, blond man, who bowed respectfully, "I am Lieutenant Anborn, and this," he indicated the thin, young man next to him, "is Lieutenant Odrastor. I served under Captain Faramir during the War. We were both hoping that you would allow us to come with you on your search today, my lord."  
  
"Anborn." The name seemed familiar. "You were with Lady Éowyn when the outpost was burned?"  
  
"Yes, lord, both of us were," answered the younger one.  
  
I clasped each of their hands in turn. "I would be honored for both of you to accompany me on my search then. Lord Faramir is in need of any help that is available." They both thanked me and fell into step behind me, as I went directly to my horse, deciding that I was not hungry enough to bother breaking my fast.  
  
Our three mounts were furnished quickly along with horses for Vëantor and two guards to accompany us. I did not wish to bring too many men, hoping that any tracks that might yet remain, would not be accidentally obscured by our small force. We all mounted and I directed that we would ride across the Fords of Poros again, choosing at random to move downstream, as I had a fleeting notion that there might be something found in that direction.  
  
Odrastor, Anborn and I rode at the fore, staying a few paces apart as we searched for any clues of passage, but even as morning passed into midday, we had found no sign of Faramir. I was growing weary of the apparent fruitlessness of this, but both of the lieutenants seemed eager to continue, so I allowed it, though I paused to drink some water and confer with Vëantor. His expression was one of guarded pessimism.  
  
"What say you, Colonel?"  
  
He seemed reluctant to speak, but said eventually, "King Elessar, perhaps Lord Faramir went eastward instead. Though I think it highly unlikely that he would have ventured in any direction other than the one that leads toward safety."  
  
"Perhaps, though Faramir oft thinks first of his men, and if he was able, I have no doubt that he would have run in the opposite direction, if only to give the other rangers and his wife a head start." I could tell from his expression that he had yet more to say.  
  
"My king," he said at last, "how can you be certain that the steward yet lives? He has been missing for over a week now. If he was not taken a prisoner by the Southrons, then should he not have returned home by now?"  
  
"I fear that he may not be able, Colonel. But I promised his lady wife that I would return him to her, and I fully intend to." I put away my waterskin. "We have searched but a few hours. I will give him more time yet. Have patience, Vëantor."  
  
He nodded. "Of course, King Elessar."  
  
I rode forth to catch up to the lieutenants, and we continued the search along the river bank. By late afternoon, we had covered nearly five leagues of ground. I deemed by then that there was not much chance that the man had come so far downstream, and so we turned toward our camp.  
  
We all remained silent on the way back, our thought our own. But regardless of what the other men might have been thinking, I still I held hope within my heart. 


	9. Chapter 9

When our small company arrived back in camp that late that evening, I was immediately accosted by General Solasgil, who had returned with his troops earlier in the evening. I had assumed that he wished to give me an official report of all that his men had seen and done as they fought the Southrons, and I started to wave him off, wishing only to smoke a little and then attempt to get some rest. But instead, he informed me that an unknown boy had been found wandering nearby the camp and had been taken into custody by the guards. When he had been searched, it was found that he carried Faramir's sword belt and dagger, and, moreover, he had three rings in his pocket that belonged to the Steward of Gondor. Solasgil had attempted to question him, but the boy refused to speak with him. I commanded the colonel to take me to the boy, and I was led to an empty tent, where the obviously frightened boy sat upon the ground against the main support pole, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He could not have been older than twelve, I deemed.  
  
His appearance was disheveled to say the least, his dark, curly hair matted with mud and twigs, his pale face very thin and worn, his shabby clothing stained with blood. He glanced up at me with uncertain eyes before he looked again to the ground.  
  
I thought he might be injured, for the bloodstains covered most of his visible clothing, but when I asked him, he simply shook his head. "Young man, what is your name?" I inquired, but when his eyes met mine again, they were filled with fear and anger. I turned and whispered to Solasgil, and he sent a man for some food for the gaunt boy. I sat down in front of the young man and waited for him to speak, but he remained silent.  
  
I opened my hand to reveal the steward's rings to his view. "Whence did you obtain these?"  
  
He shrugged. "I took them," he muttered. Then he grew a bit bolder. "Who are you?"  
  
I was surprised by his nerve. "I am King Elessar. Who might you be?" He looked at my ranger's garb, and I could tell from his expression that he did not believe me wholly. The food arrived, and the boy eyed it as a starving person would, and indeed, I knew that he probably was. "Tell me exactly where you found these rings, and I will give you this food."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "I took them from Faramir."  
  
Obviously, this boy was not a mere thief if he knew the steward's name. I had immense trouble maintaining my calm facade. "Where is Faramir?"  
  
He shrugged again and said, "He is in the middle of a field. He told me to leave him behind. I was supposed to go north and give his rings to his wife in a place called Emyn Arnen."  
  
My heart was pounding, but I had to retain my patience with this young man. I gave him the plate of food, and he began to devour the meal as if he had not eaten in a week. "How was Faramir when you left him?"  
  
"Not good," he said between bites. "He said that he was going to die like my Da did."  
  
My heart sank. Surely Faramir would not have burdened the boy with knowledge like that if it was not truth. "What is your name, son?"  
  
He stopped eating for a moment, eying me suspiciously. "I am Madach. Are you really the king?"  
  
I nodded solemnly. "Yes, I am. Can you show me where you left Faramir?"  
He finished the last of the food before he answered. "I think so. Can I have my dagger back?"  
  
I stood. "Solasgil, you, Vëantor, Anborn and Odrastor, and ten men to Faramir. Make certain we have someone along who can carry young Madach here with him. We leave immediately." The general was gone before the sound of the last word had died.  
  
"Madach, this is very important. We must reach Faramir as soon as possible. But if he is found, I shall reward you, and yes, you shall have your dagger back if Lord Faramir deems it wise. Come." I reached my hand out to him, and he took it, standing and following me into the dimly lit night.  
  
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I had spent two days in my large empty bed at the queen's behest, which was not so bad since she was at my bedside nearly the entire time, departing only at night and reappearing early in the morning. I slept fitfully for much of the time, and she occupied herself with reading some of Faramir's more obscure titles.  
  
When I was awake, she would amuse me with stories of her life before she came to Minas Tirith. Many of her stories revolved around the exploits of her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, who, I told her, sounded as mischievous as my brother Éomer had been as a boy. And then she told me the story of how Aragorn, whom she called Estel, had come to live with her family in Rivendell. She had hundreds of stories about him from when he was a boy, some very embarrassing for the king and some quite distressing.  
  
After she had told one of the latter, we sat silently, contemplating our own thoughts. I told her that I wished that there was someone that could tell me stories of my husband when he had been a boy, but as his entire immediate family was dead, this was unlikely.  
  
"Have you ever asked the Prince of Dol Amroth? He spent a great deal of time with Faramir when he was younger. Some people say he was more of a father to the boy than Denethor was."  
  
I told her of how I had sent a letter to Prince Imrahil a few days earlier bidding him to visit me at his earliest convenience.  
  
"Oh, I thought you knew! He is most likely to arrive here in a day or two with his daughter, Lothíriel. He was due for a visit to report the state of his princedom to Estel. So your letter was for naught, it seems."  
  
I smiled. "This is good news. I greatly enjoy Lothíriel's company, and I am glad to hear that I do not have to wait two weeks for her arrival."  
  
"I know she will be a great comfort to you with her youthful exuberance. Perhaps when you are feeling better, we shall all go shopping together."  
  
I smiled again, though I cared little for shopping. But Arwen was correct. Lothíriel would provide me with some comfort, I knew, and the prince and his men would be a welcome addition to the search for my husband.  
  
And indeed, I was very happy when Imrahil and Lothíriel arrived in Minas Tirith the very next afternoon. I was yet lounging in bed, Arwen unwilling to let me rise. But she did allow the prince and his daughter into my bedchamber, and they both came to me with smiles and hugged me tightly.  
  
"My lady, you are abed at this time of day? Are you ill?" Imrahil questioned me as he sat upon the edge of the bed, his grey eyes reminding me so much of Faramir's.  
  
"Nay, Uncle. It is just that I have been working overly hard of late."  
  
He immediately took that for the lie that it was and eyed me accordingly. "A strong girl like you? Posh! Where is my nephew?" he asked, realizing that something was amiss, and Lothíriel drew nearer to the bed, her expression one of solemn expectation.  
  
"I sent a letter to you, but I did not realize that you were already on the way from Dol Amroth. The main reason that I am in bed is that I am with child."  
  
Imrahil smiled broadly at the news and congratulated me, as Lothíriel clapped her hands together and bounced a bit, her face lighting up at the prospect of a new little cousin to spoil. I could not help but smile, too, at their happiness, but the prince realized I had not yet spoken all and grew sober again.  
  
"Go on," he urged. "You said 'the main reason'. Is there aught wrong, Éowyn?"  
  
"Aye," I said, looking him directly in the eye. "Faramir is missing." I told the entire tale while they listened intently, Lothíriel sinking down on a settee near the fireplace, her expression growing more sad at each word. Imrahil had gone white with the news, but he patted my hand and urged me on when it grew difficult to speak of Faramir.  
  
"You poor girl," he finally said. "It is well that we came when we did, for it seems you are in dire need of friends during this trying time." Lothíriel nodded in agreement but said naught, as the tears fell from her eyes. I flung the covers aside and went to her, consoling her with a hug.  
  
"Oh, Éowyn, how can you comfort me at a time like this? After all, he is your husband! I should be comforting you." Imrahil came over and placed his hands on each of our shoulders.  
  
"We shall seek solace in one another until he is returned, ladies. Faramir has successfully withstood much worse than this. I know that we shall see him yet again."  
  
With those words, my composure broke as well, and I stood and hugged the prince, mumbling, "Oh, Uncle," again and again, and he hugged me, stroking my back, and said naught more than, "Dear girl." It is wonderful to have a supportive family around you in such a discouraging situation! Ever shall I love Prince Imrahil and his beautiful daughter, Lothíriel!  
  
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It took us little time to depart the camp, but once we had crossed the river, Madach had trouble guiding us in the dimness of the moonlight. He knew that the steward lay somewhere downstream from the Fords of Poros, but that he was not near the river. Instead he lay somewhere in a grassy field. We split into two groups, Solasgil and Vëantor staying with me, and Anborn and Odrastor searching in a different direction with half of the guards and Madach.  
  
My company and I searched throughout the night in a loosely arranged group, combing the fields carefully, not wanting to miss any sign of the steward. But it was dawn before we found the trail that he and Madach had made through the grass. I called to the other group several times using the sound of a mourning dove before we continued, following the tracks at a brisk pace. I could tell from the marks in the tall grass, that the steward had indeed been injured or ill, for his footsteps were more faltering and halting, the closer that we drew to his position. The other group arrived then and joined us, a thrum of nervous expectation reverberating through them. And then a short distance away, we finally spotted him lying in the dewy grass, curled awkwardly upon his side.  
  
"Sweet Eru," moaned the general.  
  
We all thought that Faramir was dead. I was certain of it when first I spied his body. The skin of his beard-stubbled face was grey and crusted with blood, and his hair was plastered to his skull with dew as he lay without any discernable movement. My heart fell as I looked upon him, memories of his brother's death returning to the fore of my thoughts.  
  
"Ah, Faramir," I breathed as I dismounted and sank into the grass next to him, my voice breaking with grief. I reached out my hand to tenderly stroke the hair from his cheek, and felt an unnatural warmth there yet. A glimmer of hope again flickered within me, and I slipped my fingers to his neck, desperately hoping for a pulse. After a moment, I felt it, though it was just a faint flutter beneath my fingertips.  
  
His hands suddenly fumbled at his belt, groping for a weapon. I said his name quietly again, and he slowly opened his eyes. When he realized that it was his king who had spoken to him, he unwisely attempted to rise. I stilled him with a word, and he sighed in obvious relief.  
  
"King Elessar," he croaked. "I hope that is truly you."  
  
Despite his poor condition, I chuckled at that, and I assured him that indeed, I was real. "What ails you, Faramir?" I asked, stroking his hair out of his pain-glazed eyes, though I could see immediately that his bound arm pained him greatly.  
  
He tried to speak again, but the words were choked from him by a coughing spasm that plunged him back into unconsciousness. I commanded Anborn to ride back to our camp with all haste and have a place prepared for our Lord Steward. He complied quickly, as I removed my cape and draped it over Faramir's still form.  
  
I stood, quickly mounting my horse, and Lieutenant Odrastor and Colonel Vëantor gently lifted him from the ground and passed him carefully to me, where I held him securely before me in the saddle, his head resting against my shoulder. It worried me greatly that the man smelled of death, and I realized that we might yet lose him. I urged my horse forward at a gentle pace, unwilling to jar the injured man more than was necessary.  
  
"Vëantor, ride ahead as well. Send our fastest rider forth to his lady wife in Minas Tirith. Tell her that her husband has been found alive, and he needs her to attend him at once."  
  
The colonel bowed quickly from upon his horse's back and rode forth as if there was a pack of rabid wolves at his heels.  
  
My heart was breaking to see Faramir in such a poor state. His harsh breaths sounded loudly in my ear, his fevered face nearly burning my own skin as his head lolled upon my shoulder, his brow occasionally brushing my cheek. I glanced over to Madach, who rode before one of my guards. His face was clouded with doubt as he watched Faramir. I knew not this boy's entire story yet, but as soon as the Steward was made as comfortable as possible, I would definitely question him further.  
  
We arrived at the camp a couple of hours later. The men of the army took one look at Faramir's still, thin form resting against me, and any thought of speech was quelled. Temporarily, he was taken from my grasp by Anborn and Odrastor, and they carried him into a tent that had been set aside for him. Dismounting, I followed them in, and as they settled him onto a pile of furs, Anborn and I began to take a quick inventory of his wounds.  
  
Faramir was near death, that much was plain, and as we carefully removed his clothing, we found what seemed to be the main source of his trouble, a badly infected arrow wound upon his left side, sickly, greenish- yellow pus oozing from it. Without pause, I drew my dagger and pierced the wound slightly, allowing the foul liquid to drain onto a clean cloth that Anborn had passed to me.  
  
"It appears to be poisoned," I murmured, but Anborn told me that Éowyn herself had tended the wound and that it had not been. I shrugged. "Perhaps it is just from want of care then. At any rate, this wound needs to be cleaned well, and then I think we should cauterize it," I told the ranger. He nodded and went to fetch an iron to put in the brazier. I turned, noting that Madach was hunched down in the furthest corner of the tent. "What befell him, Madach?" I asked.  
  
He told me of the day that Faramir had appeared upon his family's doorstep, begging for food. I knew that it would have had to be a dire emergency for the Steward of Gondor to beg from anyone, for he was a proud man, and any weakness ever shown on his part had always unnerved him.  
  
"His arm was broken, and he said that he had fallen into the river."  
  
That answered many questions, most especially explaining why we had not found his trail, though we had searched in that area. I grimaced, realizing we might have found him sooner if I had allowed us to search only a bit longer. "And your mother tended him?"  
  
He looked away, and only nodded as an answer. Anborn returned then and settled the iron into the brazier, then he helped me clean the wound as well as we could. I was glad to see that the arrow had not penetrated any deeper than it had, else he might have bled into his lung, which would have certainly killed him. When we were finished, Anborn held Faramir against him, and I laid the red-hot iron against the wound. I had thought the steward to be too far gone to feel the pain, but he bucked against the ranger's body, and emitted a pained sigh that twisted my insides.  
  
I made certain that his arm had been set properly, and rebound it before settling it into a makeshift sling across his body. Anborn bathed the dried blood from Faramir's face, and I examined the bruises upon his cheek.  
  
"Who hit him, Madach?"  
  
"It was the Southron warrior that my mother sold him to," he muttered very softly.  
  
I reeled to face the boy. "What?"  
  
Madach's face colored, and he laid his head upon his knees. "But I tried to help him," he wailed. "The Southron was going to kill him!" He lifted his head, and I saw the tears streamed down his face. "I did not mean to kill him though! I just thought to distract the warrior long enough for Faramir to get away. I did not mean to kill him!"  
  
Anborn surprised me and went to the boy, taking him gently in his arms and quieting him with soft words before Madach fell against him and sobbed uncontrollably. I sighed, exhausted by these past few hours, and turned back toward Faramir. I laid my palm upon his brow and worried about the fever that was raging there.  
  
Anborn and I tended the steward throughout the day, barely pausing to eat or drink, as his fever climbed yet higher, his body fighting infection and most probably sickness from being exposed for so long to the cold and the dampness. Around dusk, I checked his arrow wound again, and I was bewildered by it. Despite the cauterization, it again wept the same unclean liquid, though in a greater quantity now. Anborn was baffled as well. Again we cleaned it thoroughly, but this time we merely bandaged it and hoped that it would not turn foul again.  
  
But the next morning it was the same, and I was at a loss. We checked the man for other wounds, but found naught else. And still his fever rose.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Faramir again opened his eyes at last on the evening of the fourth day since we had found him. His fever finally had broken, but he seemed not to remember aught of what had befallen him. He smiled wanly at Anborn and me, but said little, even after we had fed him as much water and broth as he would take. I took his good hand in mine, and noticed that it shook violently, obviously a new development since he had been injured.  
  
There was only one word that he repeated many times, and that was, "Éowyn." I told him again and again that she was well, though she missed him terribly. I also explained that a message had been dispatched upon his discovery and that she should be by his side in only a matter of days. But instead of cheering him, this news seemed only to distress him more, and I wondered briefly at his reaction.  
  
But then he was struck by a coughing fit that cruelly stole his breath from him, and left him writhing weakly amongst the furs, obviously in a great deal of pain. He said it hurt just to breathe. I deemed that pneumonia had likely settled in his lungs, and offered him a draught made of willow bark, peppermint and a few other tiny amounts of herbs to help ease his breathing somewhat. But though he drank it down well enough, it would not stay down, and so we had a new, more frightening problem to deal with. Within minutes we found that he could not even take water, and my heart sank, for no one who is ill lives long without water and nourishment. Though we spoke to the steward and still encouraged him to drink what he could, he fell back into insensibility late into the night and could not be roused again.  
  
As a last resort, I sat behind him, cradling his head against my shoulder, dribbling a spoonful of water between his slack lips while stroking his beard-stubbled throat, encouraging him to swallow. I had only managed to get half a cup into him before he began to gag and choke, and I had to quickly lay him upon his side as he retched it all back up.  
  
"It seems that Lady Éowyn may not arrive in time," said Anborn, matter-of-factly. "Would that she could have been here when he had last awakened, but it seems that we did not find him in time, King Elessar."  
  
Knowing the Rohirric woman's riding habits, I was certain that she would arrive some time late two days hence, but it was uncertain that Faramir should yet be here. "Nay, Anborn, it seems not," I admitted.  
  
"Perhaps if the water was warmer. . . ."  
  
"Perhaps." But it was no use. We tried all manner of things to see if he could retain anything in his stomach, but naught was successful. I even pled with Faramir himself, though he could not hear me, and I angrily accused him of giving up.  
  
Anborn finally placed his hand on my arm. "My king, perhaps we should just make him comfortable and await his lady wife. Perhaps she will be able to coax some broth into him."  
  
These were not the words that I wished to hear, but though I was loath to admit it, it seemed to be the only option left to us.  
  
"Watch over him," I told the ranger. "I need some air."  
  
He nodded as I stepped from the tent. I found myself praying that Éowyn might arrive in time to see her husband one final time before he passed beyond the veil.  
  
To make matters worse, I was approached by a messenger who told me that some of the guards that had been posted just on the other side of the River Poros, had reported seeing Haradrim scouts throughout the day. I had set General Solasgil the task of dealing with any trouble that the Haradrim felt compelled to give us, but suddenly found myself more than willing to lead my army in any skirmishes that might arise. There would be a great many debts to pay upon the death of the steward, and I intended to see that they were all paid in full. 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Your lovely reviews are keeping me going!! Thank you all!!  
  
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Out of anger, I packed up my pavilion and took nearly three-quarters of the force that was camping at the River Poros and crossed into South Gondor, fully intending to obliterate any Southrons who were unlucky enough to cross our path. No longer could I sit and watch my steward deteriorate unto death. I needed action, something that made me feel useful, since it seemed that I had proven worthless in one of the most important occurrences since the end of the War. I was certain that when I returned to the main camp, Faramir would be dead. I had admitted it to myself, though it was difficult, because his death was wholly wasted. Gondor had not been at war, and Faramir's journey was nonessential, only meant to last a week or two. He simply had wanted to prove to himself that he was yet a useful Ranger of Ithilien, who could draw a bow if necessary, and I believe that he had felt a keen sense of loss of comradeship with the rest of the rangers since he had taken up his duties as the Steward of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien.  
  
To my chagrin, at first I blamed Faramir for his own quandary, and this made me wroth above all else. For I greatly doubt that he would have visited the outpost if he had known that there had been a great threat of danger there. Eventually I cursed the Steward of Pelargir under my breath. If only he had seen fit to send reports of the Haradrim's movements during the past few months! Though it was a selfish thought, I knew not how to face ruling Gondor without her greatest asset, Faramir.  
  
And Lady Éowyn should not have to face a future without the man who had pulled her from the brink of despair and set her heart aflame. I had no doubt that without Faramir, Éowyn would wither and die like a lily whose roots had been ripped from the soil. I knew not how I should ever be able to face her again. And when Éomer King received word of this, he would be furious, though I knew not at whom.  
  
After I had given Anborn the steward's rings for safekeeping, I left him in charge of Faramir, a heavy responsibility to be sure, but I knew that the ranger was more than capable of handling it, for he knew his captain better than I. It only seemed right to me that he should be there at the end. And Madach remained in the service of the rangers, cleaning and mending clothing and making himself generally useful amongst their ranks. He seemed delighted at the opportunity to be of some help.  
  
Colonel Vëantor had been put in charge of the camp, and I rode forth with around eight hundred men, seeking blood and revenge. General Solasgil accompanied me, trying to convince me of the folly of attempting to rid the whole of South Gondor of the Haradrim. He urged me not to seek blood but to let the battle come to us. The noble, intelligent part of my mind knew the value of his words, but the vicious, impetuous side of me was at the fore, and I did not listen to him.  
  
When we encountered the first Haradrim patrol within a league of our camp, I personally rode the three of them down and killed them all myself, hacking them to bits, and then wiping Andúril clean upon their clothing before I returned to the main army. Solasgil looked pained by my actions but wisely said naught in front of the troops.  
  
But later that night, when we were alone at the fire, he asked for permission to speak freely, which I granted, and then he scolded me as Ada would have, accusing me of putting my vengeance ahead of the good of Gondor. I nodded, not disagreeing with him, for I knew that I had allowed bloodlust to overtake me, and I also knew that I deserved every word that he gave to me.  
  
"What will you do when the steward dies, if you have already reached this state while he yet lives?" he asked me when he had calmed down a bit.  
  
"I shall leave a much larger force here to protect Ithilien. None shall cross the River Poros until issues are resolved with the Haradrim. Perhaps we shall have to work out some sort of treaty, for I would not have what happened to the rangers' outpost happen again."  
  
The general nodded in agreement. "King Elessar, this is not your fault, this terrible thing that has befallen the steward. It is not the fault of any but the Haradrim. Do not forget that."  
  
I smiled softly. "You sound like my lady wife just now, with the kind of advice that I need. Thank you, General."  
  
He nodded and rose. "I am going to sleep now, my lord king. I would suggest that you try to do the same."  
  
I nodded but sat for awhile after he departed to smoke and think about the future of Gondor and how I would deal with the Haradrim without Faramir's steady, wise presence.  
  
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We had ridden very hard for three days, barely taking time to rest our horses along the way. When I had first been told of the messenger at my doorstep, I knew that Faramir had been located at last, but it worried me that the king had called for my immediate presence at my husband's side. Imrahil patted my shoulder in sympathy but said only that he and his daughter would journey with me.  
  
I called Beregond to my side immediately, and he saw that all of our horses were readied as I rapidly packed a few things. Word reached the queen quickly, and she was carrying a goodly-sized bag of various herbs and medicines for us to carry to Aragorn for her when she found us in the stables.  
  
"Within you shall also find some food for your journey. Please, do not neglect yourself for Faramir's sake, understand?"  
  
"I shall see to it that she takes care of herself," said Lothíriel, taking charge of the satchel for me.  
  
I nodded gravely at Lothíriel and assured Arwen that I would heed her words. And then the queen drew Beregond aside and spoke with him privately for a moment. He bowed solemnly before her and then mounted his horse, and we four departed with all haste.  
  
The long, grueling ride was more tiring for me than I would have liked, but I tried not to let it show, and I obeyed Arwen and ate at suitable intervals, though to me, even the honey cakes tasted like wood. We would ride until long after dark and resume before dawn at my behest. At night Lothíriel and I shared blankets, while the prince and Beregond took turns on watch. And on the third day we skirted the City of Pelargir altogether, as I was unwilling to allow the throngs of the city slow us, and Imrahil had said that the Steward of Pelargir would be offended if the Prince of Dol Amroth did not at least pause to chat once inside the city walls.  
  
It was quite late when we finally arrived at the camp, though a waning moon helped to light the way. Beregond went first and made our presence known. Almost immediately, Lieutenant Odrastor appeared, and without formality, he explained what had befallen my husband as we moved quickly through the camp to the tent where my husband lay injured.  
  
As we reached it, the lieutenant laid his hand upon my arm and pulled me aside. "My princess, prepare yourself for the worst. He is failing."  
  
Fear penetrated my mind. Soberly, I nodded and entered the dimly lit tent, followed by my companions.  
  
Anborn was there, looking extremely tired, as he glanced up from my husband's side. He nodded when he saw me, and then he stood slowly and drew himself aside to provide me access to the bedside. I stopped in my tracks when first I saw my husband. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted my weary eyes. Faramir lay amongst a pile of furs, only his face visible. And he looked so pale and haggard, his cheekbones protruding, dark circles beneath his sunken eyes, that I knew that I might yet weep in front of these men.  
  
I approached him quickly and sank down next to him, murmuring his name and praying that he might open his eyes for me, but he remained still, even after I stroked his beard-stubbled face gently with the backs of my fingers. His skin was cold, and I panicked a little until Anborn assured me that Faramir yet lived.  
  
Odrastor had informed me of my husband's injuries, but I had to uncover him and look upon them myself. His body was very thin as well, his ribs plainly visible along his side, and I found his left arm bound in a sling across his body, and beneath that the arrow wound, which when I removed the bandages, I saw was oozing a disgusting, greenish fluid. It had obviously turned foul since I had last tended the wound.  
  
"Anborn, why did you not drain this wound and wash out the infection?" I asked, dabbing at the injury with a clean cloth.  
  
"It has been done twice every day since he was found, but it refuses to heal, Lady Éowyn." I lowered my head toward Faramir and whispered his name into his ear, but he remained insensible.  
  
"We can find no reason for him to remain thus, my lady."  
  
"When last did he wake?"  
  
"Two nights past." He anticipated my next question. "He cannot keep any broth down either. We have tried all that we know to do, Lady Éowyn." His voice nearly broke with the last word, and I felt my composure slipping as well.  
  
"Where is King Elessar? I expected that the king would tend Faramir himself," said Imrahil, the tone of his voice conveying his deep concern over his nephew. The ranger explained to him that the king had led some men out to face any Southrons who dared to come too close to the camp. But I cared not about the king, nor the Prince of Dol Amroth, nor even myself then. I grasped Faramir's right hand in both of mine and brought his cold fingers to my lips, tears dripping onto his hand.  
  
"How did this happen, love?" I moaned quietly to him, not expecting an answer. I remembered the morning not so very long ago, when Faramir had departed from Emyn Arnen, the mischievous gleam in his grey eyes, Simbelmynë dancing so prettily beneath him as my heart had thundered in my chest just from gazing upon his handsome face. He had been so full of life despite his exhaustion from lack of sleep. My heart was now thundering again, but a different reason. Never could I have dreamed that Faramir might come to this humble state in such a short amount of time.  
  
Unexpectedly, Lothíriel, with a steady voice, took command, saying, "Fara certainly cannot get any better if we simply surrender him to death. Lieutenant," I heard her say, "I need some extra furs or coverlets for Éowyn to bed upon, for she has just endured a grueling journey, and she requires rest and quiet just as her lord husband does." Lieutenant Odrastor left quickly without comment.  
  
Then she said, obviously speaking to Anborn, "Sir Ranger, please go, and take some rest. I know you worry for your lord, but there is naught you can do for him if you are ill from exhaustion. Please." Anborn nodded and bowed before us all, before he departed the tent.  
  
Imrahil spoke quietly to his daughter, explaining that he would find King Elessar and speak to him about the circumstances surrounding Faramir's condition, and I heard Lothíriel ask him to be careful before she turned her attention to me.  
  
She knelt next to me and looked briefly upon Faramir's face as if he were simply sleeping. "Éowyn, we shall find a way to get him to drink something. He shall listen to you, and you might even convince him that it is good for him, as he always weighs your advice quite heavily."  
  
Though what she spoke seemed nonsense to me, Lothíriel's voice calmed me and allowed me to think beyond this moment. With a last kiss of his knuckles, I gently laid his hand upon the furs next to him, and cleansed his wound thoroughly, bandaging it. Then his cousin and I lifted Faramir so that I could slide behind him, resting his head upon my chest. Odrastor returned with a few extra furs, laying them nearby, before he bowed and departed the tent.  
  
"Never has Fara been able to resist honey," she continued in a conversational tone, "for it is his favorite flavoring for everything. You know this, Éowyn." Lothíriel found a clean spoon and a bowl upon a chest near the brazier, and then poured some hot water from the kettle into it. Then she took a jar of honey amongst her things and poured a small amount of the thick, amber-colored liquid into the water, stirring it until it was mixed to her satisfaction. Carefully, she spooned a tiny bit of the mixture into his mouth, and I gently stroked his throat until he had swallowed it. And then we waited, thinking that perhaps if he did not take too much at once, he might keep it down long enough for it to do him some good. Gently I stroked his hair while we waited, speaking softly in his ear, telling him all manner of things, wishing that he might hear me and awaken, ending this horrible nightmare for all of us.  
  
We waited for perhaps a quarter of an hour before we dared to feed him more. We repeated the process and waited again. Altogether, he took six spoons of honeyed water, and we looked upon it as a small victory. But I knew that it was likely too little. And, though I wanted to continue, to my shame, I found myself dozing against him, all of the exertion and worry of this day finally taking its toll.  
  
Lothíriel bowed her head, setting the remaining liquid aside for the moment. "Éowyn, you should sleep now. It is very late," she said, her voice quiet. "I will watch over him while you sleep. Shall I lay these extra furs for you?"  
  
"Nay, Lothíriel, I wish to stay close to him." She nodded and together we raised his body enough for me to move from behind him, returning his back to the furs. I stroked Faramir's brow as I laid next to him, hugging his right arm against my chest. I wondered briefly if my husband might die in my arms that night.  
  
"I am nearby if you require something," she said, covering me with a large fur. "Sleep well, Éowyn." I thought that I could not sleep, but my body betrayed me, and I quickly sank into slumber.  
  
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I was awakened by a guard who quietly explained that though it was quite early, I had a visitor.  
  
"For Varda's sake, who is it?" I asked irritably, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.  
  
"My king," said a different voice, and I glanced up, seeing Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth bowing before me. The guard departed without further words. And I sat, looking speechlessly at Faramir's uncle. It was eerie, the resemblance between them. "Forgive me for disturbing your slumber."  
  
"How is Faramir?" I asked, expecting the worst as I swung my legs over the edge of the cot.  
  
"He lives yet, though the situation is grave. But his lady wife has found him at last, and perhaps she might be able to see him through this."  
  
I nodded, thinking it unlikely.  
  
"My king, I came to see if I might offer my assistance to your cause here in South Gondor and also to discover the circumstances surrounding my nephew's injuries." He raised a bag, placing it on the nearby table. "And the queen sends you some supplies."  
  
"Thank you, Imrahil." I rose and dragged on my shirt, before I called a guard and had him go to bring us some food to break fast in my pavilion. I bade the prince to sit in one of my camp chairs as I dragged a wooden comb through my hair and tried my best to look presentable before the sun had even risen. I suspected that Imrahil had slept little in the past few nights and probably none at all this night, and I said as much to him.  
  
He nodded wearily. "Éowyn was doing everything within her power to reach Faramir's side in the least amount of time, and riding at that speed makes it rather difficult to sleep within the saddle," he smiled wryly.  
  
I nodded. "Feel free to use my pavilion for your needs, Lord Imrahil. One cannot properly function for long without proper rest."  
  
He murmured his thanks as I sat across the small table from him and awaited some food, as I rifled through the bag, finding a note written in Sindarin from Arwen.  
  
Estel, my love,  
  
Within this bag I have provided you with any and all healing  
herbs that I could conceive that you might need on Faramir's behalf  
including the last of the athelas we had found on our past foraging  
excursion.  
  
I realize that if you have called Éowyn back to Faramir's side  
that his condition must be very serious. I pray to the Valar that he  
might be made well again as soon as possible, and I feel confident  
that you, my husband, shall be the one to heal him yet again.  
  
Forgive me, but I neglected to tell you some happy news that I  
thought Éowyn and Faramir might want to tell you themselves, but I  
feel it is important for you to know now that Éowyn is carrying  
Faramir's son. I explained to her guard, Beregond, the situation, but  
please, in this difficult time, make certain that she is taking care  
of herself and the future Steward of Gondor as best as you can.  
  
And above all, take care of yourself. I could not bear it were  
I put in Éowyn's position. I feel for all my centuries of living that  
I am but a weak creature next to that woman!  
  
I love you!  
  
Arwen  
  
The prince had waited patiently while I read, and I folded the letter, setting it aside to read again later. The food arrived, duck eggs poached in wine, oatcakes with honey and some bacon, along with some strong- flavored tea that I like to drink in the mornings. Imrahil accepted the tea with a murmur of thanks but refused the food.  
  
"Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Imrahil." Without further preamble, I launched into a full account of what I knew for certain had happened to the man's nephew, omitting nothing. The prince nodded occasionally, sipping his tea, but said naught until I had reached the end of the tale. "I fear that we were too late in finding him to save his life."  
  
Imrahil raised his eyebrow. "And yet, you are here in South Gondor while Faramir remains alive in Ithilien, albeit by a thread. I never expected you to abandon him in his greatest hour of need, Aragorn." The words were harsh, but the tone was not. And yet I cringed.  
  
"I have already been reminded of the many bad choices that I have made in the past few days. And I feel that I have failed your nephew on many counts as well."  
  
"He is a man grown, Aragorn, and well able to fend for himself under normal circumstances."  
  
I shoved my breakfast aside, no longer hungry. "I have already tried to blame him for these events, but I failed to look upon him as a soldier, which is in effect what he yet is, despite his titles. I allowed him to enter an area where I had no idea of the civil turmoil. And as king, it is my duty to know all that occurs in my kingdom. I should have made him wait until I had a full report of the conditions down here. But I was too involved with the White City. If I had but known, I could have issued him a full company of rangers to accompany him, instead of the three that he requested for himself."  
  
Imrahil took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. "There is naught that can be done about it now, my king, with the exception of your watching over Faramir in his last hours, and easing his passing if needs be." His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and I looked away to give him a moment's privacy.  
  
"I will not take his life from him, Lord Prince."  
  
"Perhaps not, but I think he deserves your presence at the very least." I looked back at Imrahil's face, noting the undercurrent of anger running through his words, and I nodded slowly, knowing that he was right.  
  
"Then I shall depart here at dawn and return to his side. General Solasgil is more than capable of handling this operation."  
  
The prince nodded, murmuring his thanks. "I know this is not easy for you, Aragorn. But it is not easy for any of us, most especially dear Éowyn."  
  
I agreed with him, now understanding why Faramir was unhappy that his wife would be returning to the River Poros. "I will help where the Valar allow me to. Thank you for helping me see the foolishness of my actions, Imrahil."  
  
"A king can never have too many advisors, Aragorn," he smiled faintly.  
  
"With any luck, I shall not lose any of you."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
When I awakened, I was curled against Faramir's still form, my arm draped across his bare chest. He had not moved, and he looked no better in the morning light than he had yestereve, but he was yet alive. I sat up with a moan.  
  
Lothíriel dozed upon a pile of furs nearby. I spoke quietly to my husband as I checked his side wound again. It looked no different from the night before, but I left it uncovered for a while, hoping that it might help somehow to have the air against it.  
  
With a soft caress of my husband's face, I rose and found Beregond, who had stationed himself outside of his lord's tent, and I asked him to fetch some items for me. He nodded as I named what I required before he departed, glad of something else to do.  
  
Returning to the tent, I sat, stroking Faramir's rough cheeks until the guard returned with a bucket of heated water, various clean cloths, and his own razor and soap. I thanked him, and dismissed him, and then I began to wash my husband's wasted body. I drained the foulness from the injury on his side, and then I redressed the wound.  
  
After I had finished bathing him thoroughly, I lathered his face and neck and began to carefully draw the sharp razor over the stubble upon his emaciated face. It suddenly occurred to me that I might simply slit his throat and spare him the further indignity of lying abed and wasting away. I fingered the razor, morbidly considering this option for more than a little time, trying to imagine what Faramir would wish for himself.  
  
"Éowyn?"  
  
Lothíriel's frightened voice interrupted my musing, and I looked up at her, as I yet held the edge of the razor close to Faramir's exposed throat.  
  
"What do you think you are doing?" she asked, rising to her feet.  
  
I looked back at Faramir. "I am shaving my husband," I murmured. But she is not a stupid woman, and she knew my thoughts.  
  
"Please, Éowyn, there is always hope." Her thoughts echoed those of Arwen, and I knew then for a certainty that Faramir would only want only what was best for me. If there was any chance that I might have my husband back, then it was not my place to steal his remaining life from him. I shuddered in horror at the thing that I had been contemplating, and Lothíriel visibly relaxed as she turned her back to me and gathered her composure once again.  
  
After I stilled my shaking hands, I resumed shaving him, carefully pulling the razor's edge along the length of his jaw and neck before wiping the remaining lather from his sallow skin. I cursed aloud, seeing that somehow I had accidentally cut him anyway. Lothíriel whirled to face us, her face pale and concerned as she approached and knelt next to me. I dabbed at the wound with a cloth, but when I drew it away, instead of red blood, I noticed that there was a strange black liquid draining from the tiny gash.  
  
"Beregond!" I exclaimed, bringing the guard running from outside. "Fetch the king at once!" 


	11. Chapter 11

Prince Imrahil and I departed at dawn, returning to the main camp, and to Faramir's side, leaving General Solasgil in command of the troops. Though the prince had ridden through the night, he urged a rapid pace, and I complied, knowing how worried he was about his nephew.  
  
We had not ridden very far when I spied a rider approaching us at breakneck speed, clods of mud being thrown into the air behind his horse. We halted our mounts and awaited his arrival.  
  
"My lord king!" I heard the rider shout, and I realized that it was Faramir's guard, Beregond. I sighed, assuming that the news of the steward's death had finally reached us.  
  
"What is it?" I asked as he reined in his horse before us.  
  
"King Elessar," he began breathlessly, "Lady Éowyn requires your presence at once."  
  
"Is he dead, Beregond?" asked Imrahil flatly.  
  
"Nay, lord prince, though I do not know what the trouble might be. She was most insistent that King Elessar return with great haste."  
  
"Then let us fly," I said, and we galloped northward toward the River Poros.  
  
The thoughts were flying through my head almost as quickly. I arrived at a conclusion. If Éowyn was requesting my presence, but Faramir yet lived, then he must have at last reached a crisis of some sort, and she wished for me to be by his side as he drew his last breath. I did not wish to fail him again, and so I spurred my horse to the very limits of his ability.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lothíriel and I resumed feeding Faramir the honeyed water, hoping to get as much into him as he could take before Aragorn arrived. I prayed that the king should not arrive too late.  
  
After I had sent Beregond to fetch the king, I had examined the tiny gash upon my husband's throat more thoroughly, and had found that it was an old wound, and I, not having noticed it beneath the rough stubble of my husband's beard, had accidentally reopened it while shaving him. It was obviously poisoned, though I knew not with what, though obviously whatever the poison, it was deadly.  
  
A thin boy dressed in ill-fitting rangers' garb entered the tent suddenly, but he bore no food or any burden whatsoever, and he seemed in no hurry to deliver a message, and so I wondered what he was doing there.  
  
"Might I help you, young man?" I asked, eager to see him away from this place. Lothíriel turned to look at him as well, though she showed no sign of recognition.  
  
"I have come to visit Faramir," he replied, looking rather uncomfortable. "Anborn said I could."  
  
"You know Lord Faramir?"  
  
He nodded gravely, his eyes fixed upon Faramir's face. "Shall he die then? He said that he might."  
  
I gasped in surprise at his bluntness. "Who said that he might die?"  
  
"Faramir did." My mind reeled. Where had this boy been hiding?  
  
I made certain that I could control my voice before I said, "I would not have him die if at all possible. What know you of Lord Faramir's injuries?"  
  
He shrugged and came to sit next to Lothíriel as if he belonged there. "I only know that his arm was broken and that he was fevered for a while when my mother took care of him. When we tried to escape, he became a lot sicker, and he said that he should worsen and soon he should die and that I should go for help."  
  
I sat in shocked silence, wondering who this strange boy might be and where his mother was.  
  
"Are you his wife then?" I nodded dumbly. "I had some rings to give to you, but the king took them away from me."  
  
I looked down at Faramir's hand, and only then did it occur to me that the rings I had given to Faramir upon our betrothal were missing, as was the ring that he had inherited from his father.  
  
"And what were you doing with the Lord Steward's rings?" I asked, outraged.  
  
He shrugged again. "I deemed that if I took them away from him and hid them, no one might know who he was, and he might be safe from the Southron warrior that came to buy him."  
  
The blood drained from my face. "Did you say, 'buy him'?" I asked him, uncertain that I had heard him correctly. He nodded as Lothíriel grasped him by the arm, intending to send him away and so ease my discomfort, but I stopped her. "And then what happened, young sir?" I asked quietly, shaking with emotion.  
  
He shrugged Lothíriel's hand from his arm and settled himself again. "Well, I thought that Faramir should be safe, but the warrior only seemed to be angrier. He shoved him around a lot, and hit him some."  
  
I was seething with rage now, but not at the boy. "Would that I had been there," I said. "I would have run that Southron through for laying a finger upon my husband." I gently stroked Faramir's cheek then, where he had obviously been hit.  
  
"Éowyn!" scolded Lothíriel. "He is but a boy! You should not say such things in front of him."  
  
"Oh, you do not have to worry about that. I am not unblooded any longer," he told us, drawing himself up with pride. "When the warrior drew his sword upon Faramir, I knew that I needed to do something, so I killed him with Faramir's dagger." His face colored before he looked again at me. "Sorry that it was me who had to do the revenging, my lady."  
  
I closed my mouth, which I found hanging open of its own accord. "As am I," I finally breathed, "for you are young indeed to have killed a full- grown Haradrim warrior, though, on Faramir's behalf, I thank you for your help. . . ."  
  
"I am Madach."  
  
"Madach." I nodded to him. "Well met, Madach. I am Éowyn and this is Faramir's cousin, Lothíriel," I said, deciding that this boy had as much right as any of us to be here with his lord. Faramir has the ability to make friends regardless of where he goes, it seems.  
  
Madach nodded at us both in turn and then his eyes roamed to Faramir again. "He looks bad, Éowyn."  
  
I would not cry before this boy, so I said naught, trying to master my emotions.  
  
"Éowyn, does he still have the Southron's sword? I never got to see it up close when the warrior was holding it to Faramir's neck."  
  
I shuddered in anger, unable to speak, and so Lothíriel spoke softly. "It lies yonder, young Madach." She gestured to the corner of the tent. He rose and with enthusiasm, went to examine the Haradrim sword, pulling the black blade from its sheath and testing the weapon's weight and balance.  
  
"Might I see that blade, Madach?" I asked, noticing the odd color of the blade, and he carefully brought it to me, allowing me to take the hilt in my hand and inspect the blade. I saw immediately that it was blackened, not from disuse or dirt, but because the blade was actually coated with a thick, oily, black substance. I realized that I was looking at the instrument of my husband's death. I barely managed to keep my calm facade and requested that the boy sheath the sword immediately and put it back where he found it. He seemed a little disappointed, but complied.  
  
"I hope King Elessar arrives soon," said Lothíriel, her face pale, having also realizing that the blade was poisoned. Madach sat down again next to her, and we all waited as patiently as we could for Aragorn.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I did not take long to get to Faramir's tent, for everyone who met me, made way when they saw my stern expression and noted the speed with which I rushed through the camp. Dismounting, I pushed my way inside, followed closely by Imrahil and Beregond.  
  
The sight that greeted my eyes did not hearten me much, though Lothíriel and Éowyn were still attempting to get liquids into the steward as Madach looked on, so I knew at least that Faramir was not dead.  
  
"My lady, forgive my absence," I began, but she interrupted me.  
  
"Aragorn, he has been poisoned. Look." As I came near, she turned his head slightly, and his throat was exposed to me. I knelt next to him for a closer look. "Madach, show him the sword."  
  
There was the tiniest swollen cut upon his neck, but instead of blood, it was crusted with some poisonous, black foulness, and when the boy presented the unsheathed Haradrim sword for my inspection, I quietly cursed my own stupidity, as I instantly stood and trotted back to my mount for the bag that Arwen had sent to me. Returning to the tent, I drew out the dried athelas, and set about making a potion from it as quickly as I could, causing the air in the tent to become pleasantly scented and to feel much fresher.  
  
Éowyn held the cup of liquid for me, and I opened the wound with the tip of my dagger, and then squeezed it slightly, trying to drain as much of the foulness from it as possible. When at last, I noticed some red blood flowing there, I bathed the wound with a little of the liquid, before I allowed Lothíriel and Éowyn to continue feeding him, substituting the rest of the potion for whatever they had been using before.  
  
"What is this?" I asked, sniffing the slightly amber-tinged liquid.  
  
"Honey-water," said Lothíriel as if it was the most natural thing to drink in the world.  
"Oh."  
  
It took much less time for them to drain that cup than I should have deemed it would based on Faramir's condition before I had departed previously. Though they tended their patient very well, I saw that Éowyn's strength was flagging from the combined strain of Faramir's condition and her own. In my most authoritative voice, I commanded her to rest and, though she argued anyway, I had Beregond escort her away to the Prince of Dol Amroth's tent.  
  
"Lothíriel, do you require rest as well?" I sternly asked the prince's daughter, but she shook her head.  
  
"I have slept, lord king, which is more than I can say for some people," she added, pointedly glaring at her father.  
  
He raised his hands in mock surrender before he leaned over and patted Faramir's shoulder. "I know when to obey my daughter. I shall go keep Lady Éowyn company." He bowed to me and departed before either of us could say more to him. Beregond and Madach both made themselves unobtrusive in the corner of the tent, and I settled down onto a trunk and kept watch over the steward, hoping that the athelas potion had not come too late for him.  
  
Lothíriel and I spoke for some time about the latest events in Dol Amroth, as she loved to gossip about the happenings at court there. Such talk was not my favorite subject, but it seemed rude to not speak with her. But it was not long until I found myself nodding off, and after I asked her forgiveness, citing that I had not slept well of late, I laid down in a corner and slept.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was two days after Faramir drank the athelas draught when he at last moved. Lothíriel had remained his main care giver throughout that time, and as she seemed quite competent, I had sent Éowyn away to receive her proper rest and nourishment on a daily basis, usually staying behind to make certain that the steward was yet showing improvement. And, thankfully, he was.  
  
The wound in his side finally stopped weeping the foul green liquid and began to heal properly, and the tiny gash on his throat had all but disappeared. And he had color in his face again besides just the colorful bruises that were beginning to fade. Suddenly, with the shadow of death gone from his countenance, we did not tiptoe around him when we came into his tent. We all felt free to speak aloud, and looked forward greatly to his awakening, knowing that it should come soon.  
  
Lothíriel spoke to him as if he were sitting there awake, completely able to converse with her. I almost envied his oblivion sometimes, as the girl never seemed to pause long enough to take a breath. But finally, as she was giving him a quick bath and telling him a particularly uninteresting story about her handmaiden's tryst with a young groom in the prince's stable, Faramir moved. So enthralled in her own story was she that Lothíriel did not notice him shift until I pointed it out to her.  
  
Instantly she was bent over him, speaking his name and offering him a cup of their honeyed water, which I was pleased to see was quickly gone, before he once again slept soundly.  
  
Éowyn was extremely wroth with me the next day for sending her away from her husband's side when she learned from Lothíriel that he had taken some water on his own, but again that afternoon, I forced her away from him, and though I am the king, she cursed me in Rohirric, though I did naught but sigh at her show of disrespect. I have heard that pregnant women are sometimes temperamental.  
  
As he showed no sign of rising soon, I, myself, departed to take some rest as well. And then the next morning, he finally woke enough to feel pain, which I knew should happen eventually. Though he was most uncomfortable, I was encouraged by his progress, and as I fed him a potion to send him back into a deep healing sleep, I reassured him that he should be well soon. I was glad that I no longer had to wonder if he should awaken from his slumber.  
  
But I was not present when at last he awakened fully.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The first thing that I was aware of was a voice, soft and feminine, but I did not try to determine whose it was, nor could I understand the words that she spoke. But the sound was reassuring, and I let it wash over me as I lay there, floating comfortably within a cocoon of darkness.  
  
Then I remember hearing the musical sound of water splashing softly somewhere nearby my ear. I felt a gentle hand lifting my right arm, as a warm, damp cloth swept over and under it. Satisfied that I was safe, I let the sensation carry me back to sleep.  
  
"Faramir?"  
  
The single word startled me from my rest, though it was spoken softly, but yet I attempted to resist it, unwilling to return fully to consciousness. With consciousness came pain, and I had had my fill of it, enough to last a lifetime or more. I tried to ignore the woman's voice, but she repeated the word, and a small part of me felt compelled to listen.  
  
I tried to speak then, hoping that if she knew I had heard her, she might leave me be, but I discovered that I had no voice. Instantly there was a hand lifting my head and a cup at my lips, and I sipped greedily at the cool water within it, surprised by the sweet taste of it.  
  
"Slow down, Fara," she urged me, though, thankfully, she did not take the water away from me. I drank until it was gone, but still I could not speak. I felt a warm hand rest briefly upon my brow, and though I wished that she would allow me more to drink, she bade me to sleep, and I found that I could not resist her suggestion.  
  
The next thing that I remember was a horrible burning ache in my chest akin to naught that I had ever felt before. I desperately attempted to open my eyes, hoping that someone would notice that I was awake and offer me something for relief. But for some reason, my eyelids would not obey me. It mattered not though, for someone was with me. "Peace, Faramir," murmured Aragorn, providing me a warm, sweet potion to drink. "Rest, my friend. You shall be well again before you know it." I remember briefly wondering what had happened to me before I once again slept.  
  
The birds were singing sweetly, but they awakened me from my slumber nonetheless, and I moaned in annoyance, opening my eyes and blinking against the light coming from the open tent flap. I found myself lying upon a mound of furs, and buried beneath another mound of them. Everything was still, save for the birdsong, and I wondered for a while how I came to be here and what had befallen me, as I discovered that I was unable to move much at all.  
  
I turned my head and saw that I was not alone after all. Someone, a woman, sat resting with her head down upon a pile of furs near my head. Her hair was as dark as mine, and there was something vaguely familiar about her, but I could not see her face, and so I did not know her. But I felt that ache in my chest, and I coughed, disturbing the quiet, waking the dark-haired lady. She sleepily looked up at me, and I knew immediately who it was.  
  
"Thíri?" I croaked in confusion, and then I coughed violently. Quickly she brought some water to me, and when the coughing spasm passed, I drank deeply. When the water was gone, she grasped my shaking hand from beneath the furs as I asked, "Where am I?" thinking perhaps that I had somehow fallen ill and been sent to Dol Amroth for some reason, but there was nothing in my memory that would indicate that.  
  
"Relax, Fara. I will tell you all." And so I obeyed my cousin, but she remained silent, stroking my hand, and it was then that I saw that she was close to tears.  
  
I was alarmed. "Uncle?" I questioned, greatly worried that something had befallen him.  
  
She shook her head. "He is well, Fara."  
  
I remembered then that my wife had been in danger, though I could not recall the exact nature of it. "Éowyn?" My heart was pounding and it was making me weak. Suddenly an expression of remembrance crossed her face, and she rose quickly, darting from the tent without a word. "Éowyn?" I asked again as my cousin retreated from the tent, my voice unable to speak her name very loudly, but definitely able to speak it insistently. I was nearly faint with worry, my entire being shaking in fear at Thíri's reaction.  
  
But then suddenly, she was there in the tent with me, my glorious wife. As she reached me, a swirl of white skirts and silky, unbound tresses of gold, I thought that perhaps she was only a beautiful dream. But then she spoke, and her voice brought me back to reality with its grave, frightened tone.  
  
"Faramir?" As she knelt over me, her worried grey eyes searched mine as if she had lost something valuable within them. I inched my shaking hand toward her.  
  
I nearly wept at the sight of her, attired in one of her lovely, flowing white gowns, her hair flowing around her face and tickling mine, the scent of it both familiar and calming.  
  
"How fare you, my love?" She clutched my hand and stroked it tenderly as if attempting to quiet its shuddering.  
  
My voice was the merest whisper. "I know not, wife. What has happened? And you, are you well?"  
  
My confusion was complete when Éowyn began to laugh and cry at the same time, kissing the fingers of my hand again and again. "I am very well now, my husband. We have all just been so dreadfully worried about you."  
  
"You are certain? You remain unharmed?" From where I was lying, she looked well, but quite exhausted and disheveled as if Thíri had disturbed her rest.  
  
She nodded vehemently, tears spilling from her eyes. "I am certain."  
  
"And our son?"  
  
"He is well also, Faramir." She smiled, as she placed my trembling hand upon her abdomen. "I have waited as patiently as I could for you, my love. And though the time did not pass quickly, it did pass, just as you said it should."  
  
It was odd, but the moment that I was completely assured that Éowyn was well and safe, the tremor in my hand stopped as if it had never been there. We both noticed it at the same time. "I have been dreadfully worried about you as well, my dear," I spoke, my voice nearly spent now. As we were yet alone, I relaxed my guard and wept openly before her, relieved that we were at last together again, and she clasped me against her bosom and wept as well. 


	12. Chapter 12

I awakened, quickly becoming aware of Éowyn's body pressed against mine, and I was doubly relieved that it had been no dream, that I was safe, and she was indeed with me. She must have only been dozing, though, for she awakened almost immediately, and though she started to sit up to fetch me some water, I quietly asked her to stay where she was, so I might take more comfort in the warmth of her nearness. She complied most willingly, holding my hand beneath the furs, keeping me company through the morning, telling me of all that she had done while we were parted.  
  
I was initially confused somewhat as to where we were, since never would I have expected to see Lothíriel in Southern Ithilien, but Éowyn quietly explained to me that I had been found in South Gondor thanks to Madach, whose name brought back many memories, most of them unpleasant and unwelcome. Then she told me that I had been brought back across the river by Aragorn to this camp that had been raised by his troops near where the rangers' outpost had originally stood.  
  
"He brought a thousand men from Minas Tirith to search for me?" I asked, feeling very embarrassed by all of the effort made upon my behalf.  
  
She chuckled. "And three hundred from Pelargir also." Patting my hand, she kissed my brow. "Those who did the searching were far fewer, dear. Most of the troops have been chasing Haradrim since they arrived."  
  
My heart skipped a beat. "Are there yet many Haradrim nearby?"  
  
"A few, though the king has sent much of his force southward to keep them at bay." She squeezed my hand. "Peace, Faramir. We are safe for now."  
  
"I would not have that change." I knew what I must say now would probably make her wroth with me. "Éowyn, you must leave here at once. You and Lothíriel should hie back to Minas Tirith as fast as you rode here in the first place."  
  
She sat up quickly and looked down at me, worry touching her features, before she said in a voice as cold and hard as a stone wall, "Faramir, I would not leave this place again without you, and you are not well enough to travel yet, so I am staying." I began to argue, but she covered my mouth with her fingers and added, her voice much softer, "Do not deny me, love. My place is beside you now, and I will hear no more about it."  
  
As she rose to fetch some water, I found that my emotions were at odds. It was of great concern to me that my wife and my cousin might be unsafe so close to the River Poros and the Southrons, yet I was cheered that she wished not to part from me. My thoughts of her that had brought me through much of my ordeal, and thinking further upon it, had it not been for her, I would most probably have slipped back into the river, allowing the water to close over me one final time, never to be seen alive again.  
  
She returned to my side with a cup of water and a draught for the familiar pain in my chest. I quickly drank the refreshing water with her aid, but I told her that I did not need the potion, for the pain was bearable. But, as usual, she did not heed me, and she patiently waited for me to relent, and I drank it. I slept then and dreamed of her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Anborn entered the tent hesitantly, but I bade him come closer, though Faramir was sleeping, and I greeted him as an old friend, with a hug and a kiss upon his cheek. He blushed at me and smiled, and then I invited him to have a seat. Finally he did sit, though he seemed reluctant to, glancing every so often at Faramir's still form, his eyes filled with an odd mixture of relief and fear.  
  
"He has already gained much strength, Lieutenant. Fear not for your captain. It shall not be long before he is upon his feet and going about as if nothing has happened."  
  
Anborn nodded. "Aye, my lady, and I am so pleased to hear it, for when we found him . . . " His voice trailed off as he relived the horrific memory. I squeezed his shoulder, gently reminding him that Faramir was safe now and that he owed his life to Anborn and Aragorn.  
  
"And to you, my lady," he said, obviously feeling a little self- conscious about his role in the entire affair. I smiled as he added, "I am so happy that I was able to do something for him after all that he has done for me." He seemed to remember something then and reached his fingers into his pocket, before offering his open palm to me. There sat Faramir's betrothal rings.  
  
"Forgive me for not returning these sooner, but with all that had happened, I had forgotten them."  
  
Reaching out a shaky hand, I took them, clenching them tightly in my fingers. "I was told that the king was in possession of these," I murmured.  
  
"He held them for a time but gave them to me when he went south. I know Captain will be happy to have them back."  
  
I nodded and thanked the ranger before I pocketed the rings. "Please, Anborn, should Faramir ask about his rings, only tell him that you do not have them, for I have a surprise that I do not wish ruined, and if you tell him that I am in possession of his jewelry, he shall discover it."  
  
He smiled slightly and nodded his agreement, though from his expression, he must have thought it odd. Then, he turned the conversation toward Mablung and Damrod, wondering how they were faring. I had just told him of Damrod's recovery from his arrow wound, when Imrahil and Lothíriel came to call upon Fara, as Lothíriel calls her cousin, and so Anborn took his leave, but I was glad to see him smiling as he departed the tent.  
  
Imrahil wasted no time in settling down next to Faramir, watching his nephew's face with a contented expression upon his own, and I heard him murmur, "Dear boy," more than once as I rose, speaking to Lothíriel about Faramir's concern that we should leave this camp as soon as possible.  
  
"Is it that dangerous here, Daddy?" she asked Imrahil as he stroked Faramir's face, unable to help himself. I smiled to see such tenderness from such a fierce warrior.  
  
"Indeed it grows more dangerous every day, Thíri," he said, turning his attention upon his daughter. "Our forces in South Gondor should hold, but there is always the chance that some of the Southrons might break through or avoid our defenses altogether. I would have you all out of danger if possible," he said, gesturing at Faramir, Lothíriel and me.  
  
"If we could fetch a wain from the city, I would take Faramir away from this place, for he is too weak to stand yet, to say naught of riding a horse," I said.  
  
The prince nodded, but Lothíriel said, "Fara would never allow us to take him away in a wain. He would not be able to stand the embarrassment of showing his weakness like that."  
Imrahil spoke then to his daughter. "Remember that time when young Faramir fell out of the window?" I listened with great interest.  
  
"I was too young yet, but I remember the story. Chir always swore that Elph pushed Fara!"  
  
Imrahil's brow furrowed a bit. "Oh, yes, I had forgotten. Yes, your oldest brother pushed his cousin out of the window, and poor Faramir landed on his head. And though he was bleeding enough to scare your mother near out of her wits, he would not allow me to carry him inside, instead only barely leaning on Boromir for support, stating that it was not befitting a son of the Steward of Gondor to be seen showing weakness even before family."  
  
Lothíriel nodded. "He has never outgrown that sentiment," she muttered, shaking her head. "It shall be nearly impossible to convince him to agree to ride home in a cart like an invalid, Éowyn."  
  
"I thought it might, though I will not leave him here again, so unless we can strike a bargain with him, we have to wait for him to regain his strength." I sat again next to my husband, taking up his hand and caressing his cheek once. "I do not suppose that he would ever forgive me if I were to have him carried out in this condition," I said absently.  
  
"I do not see how he could not, since he knows that ever you have only his well-being in your heart," said Lothíriel.  
  
"Thíri, we should not cause him any more discomfort than necessary," Imrahil scolded. "If he was to learn that he was carried out of camp the same way that he was carried in, he would be mortified. Though I will send for a wain. Perhaps when it arrives, he will not have need of it."  
  
I nodded my thanks to him and hoped that he was right.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Though I was very relieved that Faramir had awakened and was finally recovering from his misadventure, the situation here was growing more dangerous by the moment. Solasgil had daily been sending messengers from his position approximately three leagues south of the river, and it was apparent that Harad was gathering its forces together for some sort of offensive, as daily there were more Haradrim patrols, and there had even been some exchanges of arrows between the forces of Gondor and the Haradrim. And even worse, our force had found a few farmsteads where the occupants had been murdered, any belongings of worth stolen, and the remainder burned to the ground.  
  
I gathered my advisors together that afternoon in my pavilion, after having received one such message, so we might determine what should be done on behalf of the people of South Gondor. It was soon clear, however, that without the steadying force of Faramir's quiet strength, we would arrive at no firm conclusions, though Prince Imrahil did his best to be diplomatic in his nephew's stead, futilely attempting to keep the peace between the men with differing views.  
  
There were two main opinions expressed amongst us. The first was that we should simply abandon South Gondor to Harad, leaving the people who dwelt there to their fate. This was not as cruel as it might sound, for many of the residents had sided with the Haradrim during the War of the Ring and, indeed, in many other skirmishes before that. The farmers and peasants tended to support whomever was in the position of greatest power. And for the past two years, it had been a lawless land for the most part.  
  
The other main opinion was that we should send the whole of our force into South Gondor, working our way to the very borders of Near Harad, and reclaim the land as Gondor's own, though it should spread our forces quite thin. I was uncertain that we should ever be able to reclaim the entire land, nor if we would even wholly wish to, since the interior of the country was quite arid and hot, and there was very little that could be grown there, nor were there any people who would attempt to permanently settle there for that reason, though there were some bands of nomadic people who traveled through the desert, camping in a different place every few days.  
  
However, the coastal areas were quite populated, and the fertile land that lay near the River Poros and the River Harnen was some of the best crop land known. But again, there resided the people that most worried me, for none knew where their loyalties lay. I admit that I used Faramir's predicament as an example, citing how the woman with whom he had at last found shelter, had sold him to the Haradrim for one gold coin because her family was starving.  
  
This brought silence to the group, and our meeting was temporarily diverted from the main argument as I was asked how the steward was faring. "He shall recover," I proclaimed, and there was an audible sigh of relief from them before our attentions returned to the matter at hand.  
  
Colonel Vëantor mentioned that the settlements along the western shore of South Gondor could perhaps be best conquered by the navy, who could sail unimpeded and easily distribute troops from the beaches. I thought that the word 'conquer' was a bit extreme, as it was not truly the people of South Gondor with whom we had our quarrel. And then Prince Imrahil pointed out that as the only member of the Navy of Gondor in attendance at our meeting, he could not comment one way or the other upon the subject without discussing it amongst his men first.  
  
We debated for several hours and arrived at no firm conclusions, save that we would have to reconvene soon and resume our discussion. The Prince of Dol Amroth drew me aside afterwards, wishing to speak in private with me, and after all of the others had departed, I poured us some wine and listened to him.  
  
"King Elessar, I wish to thank you for saving my nephew's life."  
  
"His wife's sharp eyes saved him, Imrahil. I wish that I could have done more for him, though I am glad to have been of some help."  
  
"My king," he said, reaching his point, "I request that I might be allowed to take my daughter, my nephew and his lady wife back to Minas Tirith, for Éowyn is in no condition to be so close to a war zone, and indeed, neither is Faramir at the moment."  
  
I took a deep breath. "Indeed, it is becoming a more dangerous state of affairs here, but Faramir grows stronger by the minute, and if he wishes it, I would not have him far from here, for many important decisions need to be made very soon, and I would have his input."  
  
Imrahil seemed shocked. "Aragorn, you cannot mean to part them again. Éowyn was absolutely beside herself with worry for her husband. You cannot expect her to simply leave him behind now that they have been reunited."  
  
I tried to keep my face impassive. "I do not think that it shall be simple in the least, but yes, she must go, and I would prefer for him to stay."  
  
His voice rose with anger, a very rare occurrence for the prince. "Think of their babe, Aragorn! Do you feel it is wise for Éowyn to have to bear the heavy weight of fear for Faramir's safety at such a time?"  
  
I am not a callous person, but I am a practical one, and it is necessary to be pragmatic as a king. The Steward of Gondor is a brilliant strategist and a well-practiced diplomat, the most important of all of my advisors. Though, it is not impossible for me to manage without him, if I did not have to, I would not. But I found that it is necessary to be fair as a king as well, so I made a quick decision.  
  
"Imrahil," I said, my voice rising as well, "I am thinking of the babe. That is why Éowyn must go. If I could see any other way to satisfy all, I would do it." I calmed myself a bit. "I will discuss it with Faramir to see what he thinks is best. As you said before, he is a man grown, so I shall leave the final decision to him."  
  
"He shall support you, of course, for he would not oppose the wishes of his king, no matter how dangerous the mission or foolish the reasons for him to obey!" His voice finally quieted. "I only ask this for their sake. Even now they cling to one another as if they fear merely to be away from one another's sight. And I doubt that Faramir's recovery should continue at so rapid a pace if he is separated from Éowyn yet again."  
  
"As I said, I will put the question to him, and he shall decide."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Faramir physically improved by degrees over the next couple of days until he was remaining awake for hours at a time, and he actually asked Aragorn if he had any work that he might have for him to do. I would have been wroth with him, but I was just so relieved to see him sitting up, awake and alive, that I chose to hold my tongue even when I thought that he might be doing too much. But I did take this time to watch him and simply to be with him. Sitting in a camp chair in the corner of the tent, I would pretend to sew or knit, or some other feminine nonsense that I care nothing for, just to have an excuse to remain in the same place with him. And when he napped in the afternoons, I would draw close to his side so that I might simply look at him and satisfy myself that he was truly on the mend.  
  
Occasionally he would fall into a coughing fit or a twinge of pain would temporarily mar his features as he attempted to make himself more comfortable amongst the furs. I would resist the urge to run to him, trying to help him in his difficulty. I remembered that when I had been confined to the Houses of Healing, I had disliked it when the healers had hovered about me. It had made me feel weak and useless. But often he would catch me staring at him while he sat reading report after report, and he would softly chastise me for worrying too much. But then he would call me to his side and suffer me to fuss over him for a while, making us both feel better in the process.  
  
"Éowyn," he said on one such morning, his head resting in my lap, my fingers softly combing through his unruly hair, "I have a confession to make."  
  
"What is it, love?"  
  
"I have misplaced my betrothal rings." My fingers paused a moment before he continued, "Forgive me, love, for I know that I should never have taken them off, but they are not where I left them." So I knew that Madach must have visited recently when I was out.  
  
I now realize that I should have told him that I was in possession of his betrothal rings, and so ease his heart somewhat, but instead I merely shrugged. "I am happy enough just to have you back, Faramir. Do not worry about your rings."  
He reached up and pulled one of my hands to his lips with a sad smile. "But I do, for they came from you, and remind me of your love when we are parted."  
  
"We are not apart now, my dear," I observed. "Fear not, your rings shall be found."  
  
He nodded, though he looked doubtful.  
  
Someone outside of the doorway cleared his throat, and then Aragorn entered the tent. At once, Faramir sat up, unconsciously smoothing his hair away from his face, as he greeted his king with a nod.  
  
"Faramir, how are you feeling today?"  
  
"I am much improved, my king. Thank you."  
  
"I have some business to discuss with you, Lord Steward," said Aragorn, pointedly looking at me. And I knew then that he meant to discuss my leaving the camp before the words were even spoken.  
  
"Aragorn, I will not leave him," I murmured, standing and crossing to the other side of the tent to busy myself with a pile of clothing that needed to be sorted and packed away.  
  
The king seemed to know that he would not receive more privacy from me than this, and so he spoke, "Faramir, your lady wife needs to depart these premises on the morrow. I would not have her here if the Southrons should attack the camp." Faramir started to speak, but Aragorn raised his hand to still him and then continued. "Your uncle has expressed his wish to escort Lady Éowyn, Lady Lothíriel and you to Minas Tirith. I have come to tell you that I wish for you to stay here and help to lead the army to a victory over these Haradrim. It is my wish, however, that you decide for yourself what you wish to do, as I would not order you to do something that you cannot or will not do."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Faramir's face sank, and he seemed to be closely examining a frayed thread at the edge of the sling that held his left arm. "My lord," he finally said, in a voice so quiet that I had to kneel next to him to hear it, "I would have Éowyn away from this place as well, but she has stated more than once that she will not be parted from me again." He looked at me then, and his eyes were filled with pain. "Though you know that I would never deny anything that you asked of me, my king." He sighed. "I had hoped that I might be spared this decision yet a while longer."  
  
I nodded and glanced sideways at Éowyn who stood as still as a marble statue, her back to us, waiting to hear what Faramir would say. "I know it is not an easy decision for you, but I would not make it for you, Lord Steward."  
  
He sounded sorrowful as he spoke. "I must stay if you need me, and obviously Éowyn must go." He sighed. "She shall be in good hands with Thíri, I am certain. And with any luck, we shall be done here before the babe is born, so that I might be by her side."  
  
I nodded. Imrahil had been right about Faramir's sense of duty, of course, and I had known it and had used it to my advantage. But I truly had not expected him to be quite so downhearted at the prospect of being parted again from his lady wife. "Would you like more time to decide?" I asked him.  
  
He shook his head, but did not look me in the eye, as he said, "No. The decision is made. It is as I said. I will remain, and Éowyn and Lothíriel shall go."  
  
Éowyn whirled to face us then. "My lords," she said in an icy tone. "Since I have become an adult, I have been able to make my own decisions. I would have you know, Lord Faramir," and he winced at the coldness of her voice as she spoke, "that I do not need you to send me from you, for I depart of my own accord, and I shall never return here again. In fact, I know not why I ever came here at all!" And she whirled and ran from the tent without another sound.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Éowyn's words hurt me more than all of the injuries and sickness I had been forced to endure over these past days. I glanced up at the king and noted that he looked contrite, and I thought that he might go after her, but instead he stood and said, "It is a good decision, Faramir. She shall see the right of it before she departs."  
  
I nodded, but I knew that Éowyn's stubborn streak would not allow her to take back her words. She had said that she would go, and she would. She had said that she would not return, and she would not. And I felt so cursedly weak, I doubted that I could follow her and beg her to listen to me, though in reality, I had no idea what effect yet more of my idiotic words would have upon her mood.  
  
But I did not wish to part from her again with this argument between us. Never have I had a disagreement with friend or family without settling any differences that we had between us before we departed one another's company. And I had no intention of leaving any anger between my wife and myself before she departed.  
  
"Shall I fetch her back for you?" asked the king, seeing my expression.  
  
Determinedly, I replied, "Nay, I wish to go to her. Bring me my clothing, please."  
  
Aragorn looked surprised but said naught as he brought me my ranger's garb and helped me dress as a mere manservant might have. By the time I was sufficiently clothed to be seen in public, I was exhausted, but I struggled to reach my feet.  
  
"Faramir," warned Aragorn, though he held his hand out to me. I took it without a word, and with his aid, I stood shakily. Despite the lightheadedness that I was feeling, I took a step and another, leaning heavily upon the king's arm. As we stepped outside of the tent into the bright, clear day, Uncle, who I assume had already been on his way to see me, appeared at my side, my name a whispered scold upon his lips as he slipped his arm around my back, using the waistband of my trousers to help hold me up.  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed at Aragorn.  
  
"I . . . must . . . find . . . Éowyn," I said, panting heavily. It was becoming difficult to see, the blackness beginning to creep in at the edge of my vision.  
  
I heard Aragorn command Beregond to fetch Éowyn at once, and I heard the armored guard move hastily away from us, even as my legs failed me, and the ground rushed up at me despite the helpful hands that tried to keep me upright. And then I was gazing up at Aragorn's surprisingly calm face, which was half-lost in the sun, but though he was speaking to me, I could not hear his words for the loud buzzing in my ears.  
  
My uncle thoughtfully blocked the sun from my face with his cloak as I lay there, embarrassed by my own weakness and my own stupidity, surrounded by men who pitied my helplessness. I closed my eyes, trying to gather enough strength to make it back to my bed, willing to stay there until the end of time if it meant that I never had to experience any of this again.  
  
"Faramir, Éowyn approaches," said the king, and I sighed, opening my eyes, before I tried to sit up, so I might somewhat properly receive her, but both he and my uncle held me fast, though both with soothing words upon their lips.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I had marched straight to Lothíriel's tent from Faramir's intending to inform her of my decision to depart the camp and return to Minas Tirith at once, but she was not inside, so I sat, hoping that she would appear soon, for I needed to speak with someone.  
  
How could my husband send me from his side when he knew my greatest wish was to stay with him? I knew that it was not an easy decision for him to make despite how quickly he made it, but I had still been very angry with him. I lost my temper, and I said words to him that were meant to wound, and from the look upon his face, it was plain that I had done a very thorough job of it. And now I could not decide how to gracefully apologize to my husband before we parted for the third time.  
  
I had not sat there long when I heard Beregond bellowing my name. I rose quickly and exited the tent, wondering what the matter was. As soon as I saw his face, I knew it was Faramir. Without waiting for an explanation, I hurried back the direction I had come from.  
  
I saw that there was a crowd of men standing in a circle in front of my husband's tent. I gasped, worried, and I thought about my harsh words again and regretted them even more. The crowd of soldiers parted for me as I approached, and there upon the ground was Faramir, breathless, his face as pale as the linen shirt he was wearing. He was struggling to rise as the king and the prince both held him down. But when he spied me there, he stopped battling against them and lay still, closing his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.  
  
Aragorn and Imrahil both stood and began to call for the men to disperse, and I knelt next to Faramir, uncertain of what to do.  
  
"My lady," he began, his voice a mere whisper. I called for some water, and a waterskin was brought to me immediately. After helping my husband to drink some of it, I took a swig myself, and then before he could speak again, I began.  
  
"What do you think you are doing, Faramir?" I berated him.  
  
"I tried to follow you, for I would not have you wroth with me when we part, my lady."  
  
"I would not be wroth with you if we were not parting, my lord. You know my wishes on this subject, yet you choose to ignore them!"  
  
"There is nothing that I can do to make all happy, Éowyn."  
  
"Then, by the Valar, at least make yourself happy, Faramir! I think that you have not done that small thing for yourself since the day that we were married! Ever are you thinking of everyone else at the constant denial of your own wishes. If I thought that it would make you happy that I go, I would go and I would do it gladly."  
  
"But it would not. Nor would it make me happy to stay here with you," I admitted. "There is nothing more that I have wished to do since the ambush here, than to take you home with me to Emyn Arnen and spend the rest of my days loving you and our children. I am so weary." His eyes closed, and I thought that he might have lost consciousness.  
  
I stood quickly, his admission bringing tears to my eyes. "Eru's tears, Aragorn, are you listening to this?" I asked, glancing at him.  
  
He nodded solemnly. "Forgive me, Éowyn. Obviously I tried to push him into a decision much too quickly, a decision that did not need to be made at all, for it is plain what his wishes are now." He looked over to the prince. "Imrahil, I give you my permission to take your daughter, your nephew and his wife back to Minas Tirith at your leisure, though when I arrive there myself, I expect Faramir to be fully recovered."  
  
Imrahil bowed. "Thank you, King Elessar. It will be done on the morrow."  
  
"I think our young steward has had more than enough for one day," said Aragorn, and I turned my attention back upon my husband, who was gazing up at me, his eyes weary but at peace, despite the fact that he was lying flat upon his back in the midst of a camp filled with soldiers who seemed to have nothing better to do than stare curiously at him. The king and the prince helped him back into his tent, and he sank down into the furs without another word. As they departed, I held my husband close, and I apologized to him for my harsh words, though he assured me that no apology was required before he fell asleep, my tears of relief dampening his dark hair. 


	13. Chapter 13

I recruited Lothíriel and Beregond to help me arrange my surprise for Faramir, asking them to find some ale and to make certain that all of our friends, family and close acquaintances who were in the camp would be assembled before the steward's tent this evening at sunset. As Lothíriel adored surprises, she was very excited by my idea and said that she was quite certain that Faramir would be touched by it. Beregond, who was ever looking for a reason to partake of ale, also thought that Faramir's spirits would be lifted by the surprise.  
  
Shortly before dusk, I gently escorted my husband to the closest large fire outside amongst the tents and saw that he was seated comfortably there before I departed, reassuring him that I would return quite soon. He nodded and before I was out of earshot, he had begun a conversation with a nearby soldier who was eating his dinner alone. I smiled, grateful that my husband was going to be fine.  
  
Back in Faramir's tent, Lothíriel helped me to don the best dress that I had brought with me, a white linen frock without much adornment, and then she removed the braid from my hair, leaving it to hang loosely about my face. I removed my betrothal rings and stepped outside once again.  
  
Before me stood the king, Uncle Imrahil, Lothíriel, Beregond, Madach, Anborn, Odrastor, indeed, every member of the Rangers of Ithilien who had came south with the king, and many members of the army who had not traveled south with General Solasgil. Leading the way for them all, I returned to where my husband was awaiting me. As we approached him, Faramir looked up at us all from his seat near the fire, smiling somewhat warily, confused by the sudden presence of so many of us all at once.  
  
"Éowyn." He fastened his eyes upon me, as if we were the only two beings left upon Arda, smiling his special smile for me. "What are you doing?" he chuckled.  
  
He stood as I approached him, Aragorn following close behind me, and I held up our betrothal rings for his inspection. "What say you, my husband? Will you marry me again?"  
  
His expression became immediately serious, though his eyes yet danced with pleasure. He took a deep breath before he answered. "Ah, I love you, my dear," he murmured, "I would marry you a thousand times were it possible." He smiled broadly. "Of course, I will marry you again, Éowyn."  
  
I smiled then and turned, beckoning Lothíriel and Beregond forward, while the king moved close to us both so he might witness the entire ceremony easily. I gave Beregond my two rings to hold for my husband before taking Faramir's argent one from Lothíriel and slipping it onto the middle finger of his right hand. As I held his hand tightly in mine, I said, "I thought that I might make some new vows to say to you for this, our second wedding, but I found no fault with the originals, so I will say those upon this argent ring, the ring that I first gave to you in Edoras when we first made our engagement official.  
  
"Faramir. You are my love and my heart. I gladly devote my life to you, taking care of you when you need it, and loving you always. I will not pursue the vain and empty promise of glory and death upon a battlefield, but instead, I will devote myself to life, tending you, tending your children, tending Ithilien, even tending your garden, my lord, hoping that the potatoes might do better this year." Pausing briefly, I smiled broadly as he laughed and stroked my cheek. I continued. "I want only to make you happy above all else, for you deserve no less, so say I, Éowyn of Rohan, and so my vows are renewed before our king."  
  
He sighed in contentment, and then carefully took my argent ring from his guard, slipping it onto the middle finger of my right hand, but he paused to gather his thoughts while he searched my face, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear, as it moved gently in the breeze.  
  
At last he spoke. "Éowyn. I love you above all others. Never will I forsake you, remaining faithful to you for as long as we both shall live, and if the need should arise . . . again, I will defend your life and the life of our son against all dangers, even unto death." His eyes swam with tears, as did mine, and when his fell, I brushed them away gently with my fingertips. And then his words echoed mine, "I want only to make you happy above all else, for you deserve no less, so say I, Faramir of Gondor, and so my vows are renewed before our king."  
  
And then when I carefully slipped the gold ring onto the middle finger of his left hand, I explained to him, "I thought that with this ring, I might tell you of some of the hopes that I have for our future together."  
  
He smiled and nodded eagerly as I began to speak. "Husband, I wish with all of my heart that we should fill our big house in Emyn Arnen with as many children as it will hold, a small army of children, who, if they wish it, shall all ride with the skill of their mother and converse with the skill and diplomacy of their father." And then I sobered somewhat. "Above all, I wish that your duty never takes you far from me again, but if it does, then I wish with all of my being that you shall remain safe and shall be able to return to me with all haste." I then lowered my voice to the merest of whispers. "And I wish to spend at least a month alone with you, hidden away in a place where I might 'take care' of you properly." I took joy in the emotions that played upon his face.  
  
He closed his glittering, grey eyes and smiled softly, obviously enjoying the images in his mind that those words inspired. But when he again opened them, his face grew serious once more, and he said, as he slipped my gold ring onto the middle finger of my left hand, "Wife, I wish to never be parted from you again. I swear that I will never send you from me again, if it lies within my power, for we are both the rulers of Ithilien, and as such, we should both share the duty as well as the rewards.  
  
"And I have realized something of late because of something that you said to me earlier, Éowyn." He took a deep breath. "I am a good man. I do my duty to the best of my ability. I love my country, my king and very much love my wife. He placed his hand upon my abdomen. "And I love our son." I covered his hand with my own. "And there is no reason for me to jeopardize any of that again. I know beyond any doubt that I have been a sufficient ranger in the past, and an adequate captain, for I fought against evil for over twenty years, and still I am here." He smiled then. "I know now that there was a reason for all of the evil that I have endured, and it is this: I needed the hardships to make me realize how wonderful that my life is now. It is time to leave the past behind and finally enjoy the reward that I have earned."  
  
He stroked my cheek softly, and I rejoiced at his words. "My dear, if I chose to stay with you ever and anon in Emyn Arnen, taking you with me when I must travel to Minas Tirith to do my duty as the Steward of Gondor, and taking you with me when we must travel to do our duty as Prince and Princess of Ithilien, would you have it?"  
  
Tears coursed down my cheeks as I answered, "If it pleases you, then I would have it no other way, my lord, for I wish to never be parted from you again either."  
  
Tearing his eyes away from me only for a moment, he sought Aragorn's face, and quietly said, "My Lord King Elessar, my lady has expressed a wish to secret herself away with me for a month or more." And he turned his face toward me once more, to enjoy the blush spreading across my cheeks as he continued to speak. "Can you manage the added duties for that length of time, my king?"  
  
"I think I shall have to, Lord Steward, for I would not wish to make your wife wroth with me for all of the mithril upon Arda," Aragorn chuckled.

Faramir turned his face to Aragorn again. He bowed his head in respect, and said with a smile, "Thank you, King Elessar." And then, turning back to me one last time, he pulled me against him, kissing me gently at first, but then his lips were crushing mine, and all else fell away from us, for we were together and at that moment, there was naught else that mattered.

* * *

Our surprise wedding was a welcome distraction for everyone from the rigors of this terrible week, most especially for me, and all of us who were not actively guarding the camp drank much ale and made merry despite the fact that it seemed that Gondor was on the brink of yet another war. Éowyn was radiant in her white gown, and when someone brought out a lute for music, she danced with everyone who asked her as I looked on in rapture from my seat near the fire. Though I was enthralled by my wife's beauty, I did manage to notice that Madach had appeared by my side at some point, sitting upon the ground near my feet.  
  
"Good evening, Master Madach! Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked.  
  
He shrugged. "Do we leave tomorrow?" he asked.  
  
If it had not been for his dark hair, I would have thought him to be Rohirric, so forthright was he. He reminded me greatly of Éomer. "My wife and I do, however, I think that you should return home to your mother."  
  
He scowled at me. "There is no reason for me to return there."  
  
"But there is. She is alone with two young daughters and no man to protect her."  
  
His scowl deepened. "She needs no protection, and she has oft told me this. She says she has no use for men, so I am coming with you."  
  
"For what purpose?" I asked, amused by his expression, yet curious about his plan.  
  
"Just what I have been doing," he said, sounding somewhat wounded. "I shall stay with you, for you seem to need help an awful lot."  
  
I cleared my throat, somewhat embarrassed by his words. "Yes, well, I shall have to discuss it with Lady Éowyn first."  
  
"There is naught to discuss," he said, watching the dancing now.  
  
What cheek, I thought, but I said, ruffling his hair, "Fetch me some water, boy. I have had my fill of ale for tonight."  
  
Éowyn returned to my side, glowing and out of breath from her exertions, and I made room for her next to me. She sat and kissed me soundly, bringing a blush to my face for a change.  
  
"Are you well, Faramir?" she asked, her lovely eyes searching mine.  
  
"I am well enough, my love. It does me good to see you so happy. And I am relieved that we are departing on the morrow, heading to a safer place for all of us."  
  
"You have no regrets?" she asked.  
  
I ducked my head. "Only one."  
  
"What is that?" she asked, her face filled with concern.  
  
"I regret that I did not think to formally retire from the rangers as soon as we were first married," I murmured.  
  
Her expression melted into a smile, as she took my hand in her own. "How well you shall be tended in the coming days, my lord! When next the king sees you, the glow of health upon your cheeks shall nearly blind him."  
  
"No doubt," I grinned. "But I must tell you something, Éowyn. If you and Lothíriel think that you are going to cart me all the way home in a wain, you are very much mistaken. . . .

* * *

Much too early the next morning, the Prince of Dol Amroth and his daughter, and the Prince of Ithilien and his wife departed the camp at the River Poros for Minas Tirith. I managed to get out of bed long enough to see them off, entrusting them with a letter to my darling wife, stating that I would be staying here until the immediate strife was concluded. I hoped eventually that Gondor might begin peace talks with the Haradrim, though it seemed that it would be long in coming.  
  
I bid Imrahil a safe trip and gave his lovely daughter a hug. Then I hugged Éowyn and kissed her upon both cheeks before helping up onto the seat of the wain that she would be driving back to the city, before I turned to her husband. I gave the steward a warrior's hand shake, before he pulled me into a brotherly embrace.  
  
"Thank you for everything, Aragorn," he told me as he had drawn back.  
  
"Your thanks are not necessary, Faramir. Your being here, alive and on the mend, is reward in and of itself." He allowed me to aid him onto the seat of the wain as well, to my complete surprise.  
  
He explained. "It has been brought to my attention," he began, glancing at his wife for a moment, "that if I am to remain in my wife's presence ever and anon that I might need to defer my will to her once in awhile. It seems that this is one of those times, though I am yet learning."  
  
His smile was dazzling, and my heart soared to see the Steward of Gondor at last at peace.  
  
As I waved them, Madach and Beregond off, my thoughts rested briefly upon the work that I would need to complete here before I could be reunited with Arwen in the White City. I sighed heavily and returned to my pavilion, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before my advisors started their bickering.

* * *

Dear Brother,  
  
I have fantastic news! You are to be an uncle in a few months!  
Yes, I am with child, and Faramir and I are so excited about it. The  
babe shall be a boy according to some long lost uncles of ours.  
  
Faramir and I have only just returned from the Crossings of  
Poros where there has been a great deal of recent strife between  
Gondor and Harad. Please do not ask why I was there, Brother. Only  
know that my presence was necessary because Faramir was in dire need.  
It is a long story that I promise to tell when I see you again, though  
I will say that Faramir is well now, and we are both safe within the  
walls of Minas Tirith.  
  
King Elessar remains in the south of Ithilien with a sizeable  
army, and his manner points toward revenge against the Southrons for  
all that has happened in these past few weeks. If the king has not  
already formally requested your aid, and you have any free time from  
the business of being King of the Mark, I would very much appreciate a  
visit here. I have need of one of your bear hugs, Brother.  
  
Prince Imrahil and his daughter Lothíriel are staying for a time  
with us here, but there is plenty of room for you as always. I hope  
that Lothíriel's presence will not keep you from visiting, though I  
know that you think she speaks too much. Perhaps if you could turn  
her conversation toward something that interests you both, you would  
not find her so bothersome.  
  
I will close this overly-long letter now. Please consider visiting.  
  
Éowyn  
  
As I sealed my letter, I glanced over at Faramir, who was sitting in the window seat, deeply engrossed in a book. We had spent the past week doing naught but relaxing, and already my husband was showing signs of boredom. I did not blame him, for there was not much to occupy us in Minas Tirith besides Imrahil and Lothíriel, and each other, of course.  
  
I approached him, sitting on the edge of the seat and calling his name softly before he noticed me. He set his book aside with a smile, inviting me to come closer to him.  
  
"How are you, my dear?" he asked, kissing me upon my brow as he wrapped his good arm around my shoulders.  
  
"I am well, Faramir, though a little tired."  
  
He nodded. "I have been reading about pregnancy, and that is a normal symptom." Patting my shoulder, he added, "Perhaps you would you care to take a nap with me, Éowyn? I was just thinking of going upstairs for a bit."  
  
As I studied his face, noting that he was gaining weight again and looking quite well, I realized that I would be hard-pressed to deny him much from now on. He grinned at me as if reading my thoughts then, and arm in arm we went to our bedchamber to rest together.  
  
The End

* * *

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who took time to review The River Poros. I have appreciated all of the great feedback that I've received. My intent is to continue this story through other viewpoints in a sequel that is as of now unnamed. It is my hope that you will all read that one too when it arrives!! Thanks!! 


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